The Unfiltered Life of a Digital Nomad in Panama City, Where WiFi Passwords Are Currency Suicide
panama city is the kind of place that smells like diesel and disappointment but in a good way. i’m sitting here in my secondhand iberostar hotel, staring at the balcony that overlooks a construction zone where a guy in a neon vest is arguing with a chain-link fence. the sun refuses to rise or set like it’s got a job to do somewhere else.
i just checked the weather and it’s 17.73°C with 82% humidity-so don’t think this is some tropical paradise. it’s a sweaty, halting haze where your phone battery dies faster than your attention span. i’ve learned to carry a portable charger that’s about as useful as a screen grab of my bank account.
*pro tip: the best street tacos aren’t the ones with the flashiest signs. they’re the ones where the vendor forgets your name by the second bite. the one i’m thinking of today had three different kinds of cactus in the mix, which either means it’s genius or i’m hallucinating from the heat.
overheard gossip: someone told me a few days ago that the old central post office building down by the water is haunt because the ac always breaks right after the carnival parade. another guy said he saw a woman in a 1920s flapper dress arguing with a pigeon in front of the cathedral. these are the kinds of stories that make you think you’re dreaming when you’re not.
to avoid turning into a ghost, you need to dive headfirst into the chaos. i rented a moto for $20 a day (it smells like old fast food and determination) and tore through the street art in the casco viejo. a faded mural of panamanian freedom fighters by a subway exit nearly made me cry because it’s so loud and terrible and real.
if you get bored, bocas del toro or el valle are just a 6-hour bus ride away. but honestly? stay lost here until your phone dies and you’ve forgotten all the english. the locals will either laugh at you or teach you slang that sounds like a curse.
i heard that the seafood ceviche at el corral del crab is a myth. but every foodie I’ve met in this place agrees: you’re a failure if you don’t try it at least 12 times. go during happy hour, when the kids in striped shirts try to flirt and the avocado never stops pairing with lime.
map of where everything’s wrong:
pics from the chaos:
extended stay guide (aka where not to pee):
- click here for streetwise maps (boulder-biker dot comP)
- if you need caffeine, hit this café (coffee alchemy) but don’t fall for their cake. it’s soggy.
binando me once. i’ve already lost two of my chargers to sea monkeys. ps do not trust the wifi here. it’s less reliable than a parrot that knows spanish better than you. but the view? i can’t lie. there’s a beach 20 minutes south that has waves so small they look like digestive issues. maybe i’ll go tomorrow. maybe not. 17.73°C is a nice cooldown, right? no. but it’s here. and it’s now. and i’m still here.
tags*: travel, panamacity, digitalnomad, messylevel10000