Panamá Part 6: How the Canal works and how it came to be

Aerial view of the Pedro Miguel locks and the Centennial Bridge. The single chamber of the Pedro Miguel Locks is 9.5 m (31 ft) deep. In addition to those at Pedro Miguel, there are two other sets of locks in the Panamá Canal. The Gatun Locks are located on the Caribbean side of the isthmus. The Miraflores Locks form the Canal's exit into the Pacific. The  Pedro Miguel Locks are located only a short distance before reaching Miraflores. For a schematic showing the whole system of locks, click here.  The Centennial Bridge opened in 2004 and is 1.052 m (3,451 ft) long. The bridge is the crossing point for the Pan-American Highway, a network of roads stretching 48,000 km (30,000 mi) from Alaska's Prudoe Bay to Ushuala on the southern tip of Argentina. This makes it the longest drivable road on earth. The only break in the highway is Panama's Darien Gap, arguably the most dangerous location in the Western Hemisphere. The Gap is one hundred miles of rugged mountain wilderness infested with drug smugglers, guerrillas, and a deadly assortment of insects and snakes. As to the Canal itself, it has been described as one of the engineering marvels of the world. In this posting, I'll give you a sense of how the Canal functions, and some of its history. (Photo courtesy of the Canal Museum)

A look at the Locks

Lock gates and the control building where they are operated. Miraflores is the last set of locks before reaching Panamá City's harbor and the Pacific. This, and all the photos that follow, were taken from the observation deck of a multistory administration building overlooking the locks. Notice how the lock doors join at an angle pointing upstream. They were designed this way so that the pressure of the water will force the doors together, ensuring a good seal. Because of this, the doors can only be opened when the depth of the water is equal on each side.

View of the inner side of the last set of lock doors. The water in this lock is almost equal to the level of the water beyond Miraflores. In the lower right, you can see water pouring in through one of a variety of vents. There are two parallel channels in each set of locks, so that two ships can transit at once. However, there is a dangerously narrow stretch of the Canal before reaching Miraflores. This requires all ships to travel in the same direction, so the traffic periodically alternates directions. In the Miraflores Locks, each channel had two  chambers 16.5 m (54 ft) deep. The gates of Miraflores are the largest in the whole Canal system. They are 25 m (82 ft) high and as much as 2.13 m (7 ft) thick. The gates each weigh 662 tons and each individual gate hinge weighs an additional 16.7 tons. In spite of their immense size and weight, the gates are so well-balanced that their operation requires only two 25 horsepower electric motors for each door. If one motor fails, the other can still open and close the door, although at a reduced speed.

Two sailboats await their turn. The Canal takes all comers, from huge cargo ships to small boats like these. Cargo ships pay for their transit according to the number of containers they carry ($82 per full container, $74 for empty). It can cost a fully loaded container vessel over 1/3 of a million dollars to travel through the Canal. Small boats pay by length. Under 15.24 m (50 ft) and your fee will be $800. For up to 24.4 m (80 ft) you pay $1,300. Bigger boats, up to 30.5 m (100 ft), are charged $2000. Above that size, you'll shell out $3000. However, if you can afford a boat that big, the transit fee probably won't make you blink. Whatever their size, small boats generally make the trip in groups in order to save energy, water, and time. The smallest toll ever charged was 36 cents. It was paid by Richard Halliburton, who transited the Canal by swimming in 1928.

The flow of the Rio Chagres provides hydroelectric power for the Canal's operation.  The Canal follows the course of the Rio Chagres from Lago Gatun in the interior to the Bahia de Panamá. When the river reaches the locks, some of the water is diverted to this plant. The US engineers who planned the Canal's construction in 1904 rejected animal or steam power as impractical and chose electricity to drive the operation. The biggest hydroelectric installation is at the Gatun Locks on the Caribbean side. There are also thermoelectric plants near the locks. The full Canal system requires more than 1000 electric motors. Because of recent droughts, Panamá has begun to consider solar and wind as alternate sources of power for the Canal.

Army barracks of the former US Fort Clayton, with skyscrapers in the background. The red-roofed buildings were part of the 22 US forts, airfields, and other military installations that protected the Canal Zone for nearly 100 years. After the Zone reverted to Panamanian control in 1979, the US military facilities were gradually abandoned over the next 20 years. They became quaint relics of a colonial past. Today, many of the picturesque old buildings have been reborn as restaurants, stores, or commercial offices. If the barracks are a relic of the past, the skyscrapers represent Panamá's future.

The Miraflores Locks in operation

The Sextans enters the locks. She is a Chinese tanker out of Hong Kong. Built in 2007, she is 183 m (600 ft) in length and displaces 51,218 tons. The tight fit requires the assistance of a tugboat. Notice the Panamanian flag in the foreground, signifying the country's long-sought sovereignty over the Canal Zone. The maximum length and width of the locks is known as the Panamax and ships exceeding this must find another route. However, a new, widened canal is under construction parallel to the existing Canal. It is scheduled to open in 2016.

The 1904 Hay-Bunau-Varilla Treaty, gave the United States control of a zone ten miles wide cutting across the isthmus from Colón on the Caribbean to Panamá City on the Pacific. The time-frame of the treaty was to be "in perpetuity." This effectively made the Canal Zone an unorganized territory of the US, government by an official appointed by the American president. Within the Zone's limits the US would be allowed to build, operate, and control the canal. The circumstances of Panama's 1903 separation from Colombia, and the signing of this treaty less than three months later, were to haunt US-Panamá relations for nearly a century.

The Chinese ship is now within the first lock. The Canal operators have equalized the water levels with the second lock and are preparing to open the gate seen in the lower left of the photo. The four small electric vehicles attached by cables to either side of the ship's bow are called "mules." In the 19th Century, actual mules were used to pull vessels through the Erie Canal and other man-made waterways. The name is still used more than century after the opening of the Canal.

Proposals for a cross-isthmus canal date all the way back to 1514. In the 19th Century, world trade accelerated, as did canal-building technology. These two factors resulted in a series of plans, schemes, and surveys throughout the century. Ferdinand de Lesseps, the Frenchman who built the Suez Canal, launched a major construction project in the late 1880s. When the French project collapsed, the US began negotiating with Colombia for the canal rights. Panamá was a province of Colombia at the time. The two nations reached an agreement, called the Hay-Herrán Treaty, but it was subsequently rejected by the Colombian legislature. Colombian political leaders felt the proposed compensation would be inadequate, particularly given the expected economic value of the canal to the US. Panamá's business and political elites, who had been pushing for a canal for decades, saw their dreams once again thwarted. They immediately began plotting to break away from Colombia and sign their own deal with the Americans. The US government--which was at peace with Colombia--was no innocent bystander in this conspiracy to dismember a friendly country.

Water drains from the Sextans' lock while another ship enters the parallel lock. The Sextans' deck is now nearly level with the side of the lock. The mules continue to inch the big ship forward toward the gates of the next lock. The container ship in the background is the Hansa Europe, out of Hamburg, Germany. 

Theodore Roosevelt was US President in 1903 and he had little patience for international law, and less for pesky Latin American governments that got in his way. His policy was to "speak softly and carry a big stick" and the stick he wielded was called "gunboat diplomacy." There was no essential difference between his approach and that of 19th and early 20th Century European imperialists who colonized the globe by seizing other people's territory. He let it be known to the Panamanian conspirators that the US looked favorably upon their plans and would assist them with military force if necessary. This, of course, was based on their willingness to go along with US treaty terms. The conspirators readily agreed, anticipating personal financial gains on a stupendous scale. 

The Sextans has passed the first lock, the gates have closed, and the lock is refilling. In the parallel channel, the Hansa Europe has begun dropping as the water is drained from its lock.

In late 1903, the Colombian government caught wind of trouble in Panamá and ordered troops to land at the port of Colón, cross the isthmus to Panamá City, and put down any revolt. They immediately ran into trouble. US Navy ships from the Caribbean fleet maneuvered to delay the debarkation of the troops. When they were finally ashore, the Colombians attempted to use the railroad to move their forces. However, the American government had bought the railroad from the French in 1902. Its officials used various stratagems to obstruct the efforts of the Colombian force to reach Panamá City. On November 2, 1903, a US Navy gunboat landed Marines in Panamá City to block the Colombian troops when they arrived. No less than ten US warships patrolled the coast to prevent any landing of Colombian forces from the Pacific side. 

The control center of the Hansa Europe sits ten stories above the main deck. The level below the sign containing the ship's name is called the bridge. It is the command center.  Projecting up from the very top level are masts for communications and radar. The ship, built in 2012, is 239.47 m (786 ft) long and displaces 47,266 tons.

Although a Colombian Navy ship did lob a few shells into Panamá City, killing a Chinese resident, the affair was otherwise bloodless. In fact, many of the key Colombian military officials already stationed in Panamá were part of the conspiracy. When the troops arrived from Colón, their officers were arrested and the local military officers took over. The whole operation was swiftly completed. On November 3, the day after the Marines landed, Panamanian business and political leaders declared independence from Colombia. Three days later, the US recognized the new nation. Forty-four years before the birth of the CIA, the US government was already quite adept at stage-managing coups against foreign governments to further American strategic and economic interests. 

Hans Europe's officers peer over the bridge's railing to check their progress. Wings extend out from each side of the bridge so that the officers can get an unobstructed bow-to-stern view of the huge ship.

On November 18, 1903, twelve days after the declaration of independence, a canal treaty was signed by US Secretary of State John Hay and Phillipe-Jean Bunau-Varilla. The Hay-Buneau-Varilla Treaty immediately became controversial. This was due not only to its terms, but also to the fact that Bunau-Varilla was the sole negotiator and signer for Panama. He was French rather than Panamanian, and had not lived in Panamá for 17 years. After signing the document, Bunau-Varilla never returned to Panamá, probably for good reason. When he sat down with Secretary Hay, the Frenchman ignored virtually all the instructions he had received from Panamanian leaders regarding the treaty's terms. No doubt Hay was more than happy to have so pliable a bargaining partner. When the signed treaty reached Panamá, its newly installed leaders nearly rejected it. US officials told them that if they did, the US would withdraw its support. To increase the pressure. 2000 additional Marines landed in Panamá City and the implication was clear. They weren't there to fight Colombians this time. The Panamanian leaders caved in and added their signatures to the agreement.

A large, covered lifeboat hangs on the side of the Hansa Europe. Anyone who has seen the movie "Captain Phillips" should immediately recognize this type of lifeboat. When Somalian pirates captured a similar ship, its captain ended up spending several days crammed into an identical lifeboat with his captors before they were killed and he was rescued.

When the Colombian government learned of the collapse of their military effort, the subsequent declaration of Panamanian independence, and the signing of the Hay-Buneau-Varilla agreement, they scrambled to salvage the situation. Their government hastily sent a delegation to meet with the Panamanian leaders, hoping to persuade them to rescind their independence. Significantly, the meeting did not occur in a neutral location, but aboard the US Navy ship Mayflower and under the watchful eye of its officers. The Panamanians rejected all proposals for reconciliation and stood by their declaration. It was not until 1921 that Colombia recognized Panamá's independence, and that was only after a US payment of $25 million and the passage by the US Senate of a formal apology for the American intervention.

A telephoto shot shows the mules gently tugging their huge burden through the locks. In a later posting, I'll give you a detailed look at one of these homely, but absolutely essential, little vehicles.

Some of my blog readers might consider my take on the US acquisition of the Panamá Canal Zone to be a bit harsh. Perhaps I am just using 21st Century hindsight? Could it be that people simply looked at things differently in those days? Actually, the public reaction in the United States in 1903 was much harsher than anything I have said. The New York Times called it "an act of sordid conquest," while the New York Evening Post described it as "a vulgar and mercenary venture." Early 20th Century political cartoonists had a field day. One striking creation shows a covered wagon with "Panama or Bust" painted on its side. The wagon is pulled by a rampaging Republican elephant, while a whip-wielding Roosevelt sits in the driver's seat. Hanging on for dear life beside him sits a tiny child wearing a sombrero. The small figure represents the Panamanian leadership. The elephant and its wagon are shown flattening small obstacles marked "international law," "Colombian protest," and "precedent." In his memoirs, Teddy Roosevelt himself stated that "I took Panama, and while the Congress debated that, I built the canal." 

The crew of the Sextans gives a friendly wave as their ship passes. The Canal is a meeting point for all the world's maritime nations. 

The Panamá Canal was one of the great engineering feats of all time. The project took ten years, from 1904 to 1914, finishing just as World War 1 broke out. The US officials who led the project learned a key lesson from the French disaster under de Lesseps. The most important ingredient for success was a healthy, well-fed workforce. The first task, therefore, was to curb malaria, yellow fever, and other tropical diseases that had decimated the French project's workers and their engineers. The US Army Medical Corps had learned a great deal about tropical diseases in Cuba during the 1898 Spanish-American War. These lessons were effectively transferred to Panama and, after an intense and comprehensive health campaign, the project moved forward. Most of the actual work was performed by thousands of West Indians of African descent who arrived from the various Caribbean islands. In spite of health and safety measures, more than 5,600 men died during the course of the American project. This actually compares favorably with the 25,000+ who died under French leadership.

The final lock fills to receive the Sextans. The churning water along the right side of the lock shows where the water is pouring in under the surface. In earlier times, the water pumped into the locks was simply wasted when it poured out to the open sea. This became an issue when Panamá suffered a severe drought that lowered the levels of Lago Gatun, the major water supply for the Canal. Now, water from a series of holding ponds is used to supply the locks and is pumped back into the ponds when the locks are drained.

The building of the Canal required the removal of 252 million cubic yards of earth along the 50 mile route. This was in addition to what the French had moved during their failed project. Much of the earth was transported by railroad back to Gatun to build the dam that created the lake that would keep the locks operating. The cost of the US project was $352 million, the equivalent in today's US dollars of $7.5 billion. This was on top of almost $300 million that the French spent. The US project ended up spending 2.1 times its original construction budget. However the economic advantages the Canal provided to American businesses were great. In addition, there was the strategic advantage of easier passage for the US Navy's fleet between the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans.

The last lock is now filled and awaits the opening of the gates to allow the Sextans to proceed. On average, it takes 8-10 hours for a ship to pass all the way through the Canal. This doesn't include time spent waiting for a ship's turn to move through. As of 2010, more than 1 million vessels have made this journey. Since, on average, 13,500 vessels pass through every year, as of April 2015, an additional 58,450 have transited.

The Hay-Buneau-Varilla Treaty remained in effect as signed in 1903 until 1936 when modest improvements were negotiated.  How did it work out for the US and Panamá and why were its terms so controversial among Panamanians?  The agreement included an initial payment to Panamá of $10 million in gold coins, along with an annual rent of $250,000 in gold coins. When originally offered this amount, the Colombian legislature had rejected it and demanded at least $25 million, on the basis that the US had paid the French $40 million for their failed canal company. 

The water has now equalized between locks and the gates begin to open. When they are fully opened, the gates will fold back flush against the walls of the locks, allowing smooth passage of the ships through the narrow channel.

For the $10 million initial payment and annual rent, the treaty gave the US control of a 10-mile-wide strip of land extending across the isthmus, as well as access to any lakes and bodies of water nearby which might be used in constructing and operating the canal. US control was to extend "in perpetuity" and, in effect, the Canal Zone became a territory of the United States. The US could build whatever fortifications and use whatever military means it chose to defend the Canal. It had complete operational control over the Canal and full rights to use the ports of Colón and Panamá City. In the construction process, the US was not required to use Panamanian labor, but could import as many workers as it chose from any nation it chose. Under the terms of the treaty, no change of government or laws in Panama could effect the treaty. Panamá itself became a "protectorate" of the US, a term often used by imperial powers to describe their colonies. The "protectorate" status provided the legal framework for repeated US military interventions whenever the Panamanians became restive about their lack of sovereignty. 

A mule moves down a ramp created to allow its passage between levels. While the ships are raised and lowered by water levels in the locks, the mules travel by land and so must utilize these ramps.

So, the US used a thinly disguised imperialistic strategy to acquire the rights to the Canal Zone, then negotiated a thoroughly one-sided treaty to nail down those rights, and finally compelled the treaty's acceptance at the point of a gun. But surely Panama itself benefited from the Canal? Not remotely as much as the US benefitted, it seems. An economic analysis of the distribution of benefits does show some initial positive results in terms of Panamá's economic growth between 1915-1930. However, during the life of the US Canal Zone, the returns to Panamá were paltry. The chief beneficiaries were US corporations, whose shipping times and expenses were radically cut, especially for oil companies with operations in Southern California. The ships of other nations pass through the Canal, it is true, but the lion's share of traffic has always been American.

The Sextans has now moved into Miraflores' last lock. As soon as the gates shut behind the ship, water will begin to drain, lowering the craft to the level of the harbor and the Pacific.

Panamanians were angered when some of the great economic benefits from the new Canal failed to materialize. These included the opportunity to sell goods and services to the Canal Zone, and to the transiting ships, and to work in the Canal Zone itself. As it turned out, US policy explicitly prohibited either the Canal Zone or the ships to purchase from Panamanian businesses. In addition, West Indians were given hiring preference over native Panamanians in Canal Zone employment, just as had happened during the construction phase. The best jobs were part of what was called the Gold List, while all others fell under the Silver List. In the early days, some Panamanians could access the Gold List, but after a while only white Americans could get those jobs. Canal Zone workers, whether American, Panamanian, or West Indian, used their pay in US-government owned stores to buy goods imported from America. Passing ships could only buy supplies from those same stores. Panamanians were further angered when the US refused to turn over the initial $10 million payment directly to Panamá's government. Instead, the funds were handed to the financier J.P. Morgan who was given the job of investing them "on Panama's behalf." Part of the money he used to speculate in New York real estate and the remainder he deposited in Wall Street banks. The Panamanians had intended to invest most of the $10 million in fixed income securities. Morgan's investments produced a rate of return below that which Panamá could have earned by investing on its own.

The final set of gates opens and the Sextans is finally floating at sea level. It was unclear to me whether she would anchor in Panamá City's harbor to take on supplies, or steam directly out into the Pacific.

From almost before the ink was dry on the Hay-Bunau-Varilla Treaty, Panamanians resented it and the arrogant and selfish way US officials chose to operate the Canal Zone. They also objected to repeated US military interventions, not just in the Canal Zone but throughout the Republic of Panamá. US troops were used to break strikes, intervene in elections to protect favored officials, break up student demonstrations over sovereignty issues, and otherwise "put down public disturbances." Such interventions occurred in 1904, 1908, 1912, 1918, 1920, 1921, 1925. In 1936 the treaty was revised and the US agreed to increase the annual payments to Panamá and give up the right to intervene in the Republic of Panamá. Despite this, interventions occurred in 1958, 1964, and 1989. In the last case, the US sent a massive force to remove General Manuel Noriega, ostensibly because of his involvement with drug smugglers. In fact, Noriega had been a paid agent of the CIA from 1967 until 1988, just before the invasion. His real offense appears to have been his growing friendliness to Cuba and Nicaragua. The Panamanian politicians the US installed to replace Noriega were themselves heavily involved in money laundering for Colombian drug cartels, a fact well known to US officials at the time. During the invasion, as many as 1000 Panamanians, most of them civilians, were killed and an entire neighborhood was flattened.

And off she goes! The Sextans has now left the Miraflores locks and faces open water at last. Her passage through the Miraflores locks had been smooth, rapid, and without incident.

The 1964 intervention was the result of a student demonstration. The students entered the Canal Zone and tried to raise a Panamanian flag to fly next to the US flag. The incident escalated into violence in which 19 Panamanians and 2 US military personnel were killed. Which side initiated the violence is still disputed. However, the incident convinced US President Lyndon Johnson that things would finally have to change. A series of negotiations then began. Both sides sat down with the understanding that the 1903 treaty would have to be abrogated in favor of a new treaty that would recognize Panamanian sovereignty over the Canal Zone. US control would not longer be "in perpetuity" but would have a specific ending date. The negotiations ultimately resulted in the 1977 Torrijos-Carter Treaty. In 1999, Panamá assumed full control and jurisdiction over all of its territory including the Canal Zone and all US military bases. Panamá was finally a free and independent nation and in possession of one of the most important economic waterways in the world.

This concludes Part 6 of my Panama series. I hope you have enjoyed it. If so, feel free to leave comments or questions either in the Comments section below, or by emailing me directly. If you leave a question in the Comments section PLEASE leave your email address so that I may respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

Panamá Part 5: Modern Panamá City

Modern Panamá City, viewed over the mudflats along the seashore, looking east. The stunning skyline stretches all along the Bahía de Panamá for over 18 km (11 mi). The first time I saw this amazing array of modern structures was from the air as our plane circled around the Bahía. On that visit, we stopped for a brief layover on the way to Guatemala. I was amazed by a shoreline that reminded me of Miami Beach. I had been expecting a rather seedy, down-at-the-heels city, like Casco Viejo before the renovation. When we returned in 2013 for our Caravan tour of Panamá, we were told that the city has over 100 skyscrapers, with another 150 under construction. In this posting, we'll take a look at the  modern city, along with its harbor and marinas, and enjoy a dance performance that was arranged especially for our visit. For a Google map of the new city, click here.


The modern city skyline

The view from the ruins of the cathedral tower at Panamá Viejo, looking west. The Bahía is on the extreme left, beyond the raised causeway which crosses the mudflats seen above, between the trees and the skyscrapers. At high tide, the mudflats are covered with a few feet of water. Until the end of the 20th Century, only four buildings in the city exceeded 150 m (492 ft). Then, in the early 2000s, a building boom began, leading to a veritable arms-race of skyscrapers. As of February 2015, there were an additional 45 structures that exceeded 150 m, ranging from the Golden Tower at 152 m (498 ft), to the Trump Tower which soars to 284 m (932 ft). Many others are proposed, approved, or under construction. The aptly-named Megapolis Notria Tower, when completed, will reach 333 m (1,093 ft).

A view to the east across mudflats and a patch of coastal jungle. The weather was constantly changing during our visit, one moment cloudy, the next sunny with blue skies. This made photography a bit tricky. We visited in March, the driest time of year. Even so, it averages 10 rainy days during the month. March temperatures typically range from a mild 77 to a warm 90 with a humidity of 59%. That humidity may seem high to some, but in Panamá City it is the lowest average level during the year. From July through December, humidity averages a sopping 93%.

The city retired its famous Diablos Rojos (Red Devils) the day we arrived. These former US school buses were imported decades ago by their Panamanian owner-drivers. They became the core of Panamá's public transportation system. In fact, although now officially retired in the capital, many Diablos Rojos still operate in other cities and towns. The buses are painted with wild images inside and out, reflecting the individual tastes of their proprietors. Each vehicle has its own name, seen above, printed just below the windshields. Many Panamanians mourn the end of the Diablos Rojos as the loss of a colorful part of their culture. However, the Red Devils tended to be badly maintained and often spewed clouds of diesel fumes, contributing to the city's heavily polluted air. They could be dangerous not only because of poor upkeep but also because of the recklessness of the drivers. The Diablos Rojos have been replaced by modern, roomy, air-conditioned vehicles that are operated by employees, not driver-owners. The night we arrived in Panamá City, the chaos caused by the transition to the new system filled the evening's TV news. Hopefully things have settled down since.

In the background, the Trump Ocean International Hotel and Tower rises above all. Its curved profile reminded me of Half Dome in Yosemite. Developed by the ever-flamboyant Donald Trump, the tower gives meaning to the term "trumped up". The structure rises 70 stories above ground level and is currently the city's tallest building. If the buildings seen above appear to be jammed together, sardine-style, it's because they are. Although the available land is limited, the egos of the builders are not. Consequently, the city's nightmarish traffic jams are legendary. This is one reason that the anarchic Diablos Rojos bus system was scrapped in favor of a more modern, if less unique, system of transportation.

The cylindrical Plaza Paitilla Inn provides another interesting shape to the cityscape.  The hotel boasts 272 rooms with spectacular views in every direction. I am dubious about the hotel website's claim that the airport is only 15 minutes away. Given the previously mentioned traffic difficulties, perhaps they mean 15 minutes by helicopter.

The F&F Tower looks like a giant corkscrew. It was formerly called the Revolution Building. The first 13 stories are a parking garage, while those above form a twisting helix. The building's 52 stories rise 242.9 m (796.9 ft) from ground to tip. Emporis GmbH, a real estate data mining company, rated the F&F Tower as #7 of the ten best skyscrapers in the world for 2011. The building offers commercial office space, perhaps aimed at those with a twisted sense of humor. There is some talk of making the F&F Tower Panamá City's official symbol.

The city's unique Aquabuses

Keep your feet up and they won't get wet! As we crossed a bridge spanning a lagoon near a marina, I spotted a bus voyaging in the opposite direction. The startling view out my bus window resulted in the following series of shots. At first, I thought the bus was traveling on a slightly underwater bridge, or perhaps the water was just extremely shallow. Later, I found out that this was one of the city's famous amphibious Aquabuses.

Land Ho! The Aquabus nears a landing ramp. Somewhat like the Diablos Rojos, the tour operators acquired vehicles from the United States that were created for an entirely different purpose. The US military originally developed them as a way to carry troops across rivers and other bodies of water where no docking facilities for a normal boat were available. As a veteran, I suspect that the original vehicles were a bit less comfy than the tourist model.

The Aquabus begins its climb up the ramp, becoming a land vehicle again. Tours cost $49 (USD) for adults and $39 for children. The two hour tours are given Wednesdays through Sundays, starting at 10:30 AM and 2 PM and must be reserved in advance.

High and (mostly) dry, the Aquabus looks and functions like any other bus when on land. The tours take the adventurous on a route that passes through several bodies of water This includes crossing the Bahía to the mouth of the Panama Canal.


The Bahía, Harbor, & Marina

Ships ride at anchor outside a breakwater, with the city skyline in the background. The size of the Trump Tower can be appreciated in this view. What is the origin of the mind-boggling wealth that created modern Panamá City? There are several sources. The service sector comprises 78.4% of the economy, while industry takes 17.9% and agriculture only 3.7%. Almost 65% of the workforce is involved in providing services. The Panamá Canal forms a major part of those services and has produced over $7.61 billion (USD) in profits between the time the Canal came under Panamanian control at the end of 1999 through 2013. $1 billion of those profits were accrued in 2013 alone. Closely related to the Canal are other important activities such as the Colon Free Zone, insurance, container ports, and the flagship registry.

A beautiful old yacht gently rocks in waters of the Bahía. This old craft has the look of those owned by Gilded Age tycoons at the end of the 19th Century. I am not sure of its current power plant, but the smokestack indicates that it was once steam-powered.  Another key part of the economy's service sector is finance. Panamá is ambitious to become Latin America's international trade and banking center. More than 100 multinational corporations use Panamá City as their regional headquarters for Latin America. Almost 100 international and local banks operate here. A good part of the mushroom-like growth of skyscrapers is due to this ambition. In addition, important parts of the industrial sector include construction, and cement and other construction materials. Since these are all related to the skyscrapers built to house the burgeoning service sector, this further points to the domination of that sector.

Detail of the yacht. A wisp of steam rising from the top of the smokestack indicates the presence of a steam engine somewhere below decks. As the old saying goes, if you have to ask how much a craft like this costs, you can't afford it. Someone else once described a boat as a hole in the water into which you pour money. Unless this is a local boat, the owners must be extremely well-heeled tourists. Almost 9% of Panamá's economy is related to tourism. The World Bank estimates that, in Panama, each $1 of tourist spending generates another $2.87 through the "multiplier effect." Tourist spending here falls into three general areas: beach resort visits, adventure/eco-tourism, and foreign retirees. However, much of the tourist spending never ends up in the pockets of ordinary Panamanians. A hefty portion is repatriated by foreign-based tourist corporations. In addition, supplies and food for tourists often comes from out-of-country sources.

Row after row of sleek yachts are anchored in the harbor's marinas. Sometimes the sources of income of the owners of these expensive boats can be mysterious. The illegal drug trade has been a fact of life in Panamá since at least the early 1980s. The country's free-wheeling banking system, and particularly its bank secrecy laws, created an ideal environment for money laundering. In addition, Panamá occupies a key geographic position between North and South America, and between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. This geography plays a major role in the transportation of illegal drugs, particularly cocaine. As a result, the drug cartels of Colombia have had a long and well-documented working relationship with corrupt members of the Panamanian government. Some of these officials have included Panamanian presidents and supreme court justices.

This yacht seemed more like a small ship than a boat. Panamá City's forest of skyscrapers fills the skyline. The US invasion of Panamá in 1989 was billed, at the time, as a police action aimed at capturing military dictator Manuel Noriega. He had just been indicted in Miami for his involvement with the Colombian cocaine cartels. Only later, it emerged that Noriega had been a paid agent of the Central Intelligence Agency for more than two decades. The CIA helped bring him to power after the mysterious death of his predecessor Omar Torrijos. Noriega had been recruited by the Agency while studying at a military academy in Peru. In 1967, he was trained in counter-intelligence at the US Army's School of the Americas (SOA). The SOA's graduates form a rogue's gallery of Latin American military dictators and human rights abusers. Noriega remained on the CIA's payroll up until 1988, only a year before the invasion that led to his ouster. Up to that point, top US officials turned a blind eye to his drug affiliations in spite of their lip service to the importance of the US War on Drugs. Noriega's defiance of the Miami indictments forced the hand of the George H.W. Bush Administration. After Noriega's capture, the US turned over power to a junta of so-called "democratic politicians." However, nearly all of them had held high positions with the same banks that had laundered Colombian drug money for decades. Top US officials were well aware of these connections, and former President Gerald Ford even lobbied on behalf of the banks. Although some anti-drug reforms have been implemented since the invasion, many of them appear to be window-dressing to hide the continuation of business-as-usual.


Dancin' up a storm

Restaurant at the marina where we stopped for lunch during our tour. In the distance you can see a ship sailing across the Bahía toward the Pacific entrance of the Canal. Pedro, our tour director, arranged for some special entertainment during our meal.

These young dancers performed a local version of the tango. Panamanians are famous as party-animals, even among Latin Americans. There are numerous areas in Panamá City where nightlife is abundant, and after-hours clubs pop up like mushrooms all over the city.

Puttin' down some steps. Given the warm weather and the athletic moves of this dancer, if she had worn any more clothes than this, she would have been drenched with sweat. Doubtless that was the reason for the limited nature of her outfit.

The sensuality of tango was considered shocking in the 19th Century. Tango originated in Argentina in the late 19th Century, but its roots go back to Cuba and Aftica. It became popular among the Argentine working class of Buenos Aires, and then migrated to Europe and North America where it caught on with the middle and upper classes in the 1920s.

Panamanians are a wild mixture of races and cultures. Only about 9% are indigenous. This young woman appears to be mestizo (mixed Spanish and indigenous) while her partner appears to come from an African, or Caribbean-African background. Because of its important position in international trade, people from every continent can be found here

This completes Part 5 of my Panama series. In my next posting, I will focus on the operation and history of the Panama Canal. I hope you have enjoyed this week's posting. If you would like to leave a question or comment, please do so in the Comments section below, or email me directly. If you leave a question, PLEASE leave your email address so that I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim

Panamá Part 4: Casco Viejo's Plaza Independencia & the Golden Altar of Iglesia San Jose

Panamá's famous Altar of Gold is located within Iglesia San José. Later in this posting, I will tell you about the legend of the Golden Altar. Plaza Independencia, and the nearby Iglesia San José (St. Joseph Church) are both located in Casco Viejo, Panamá City's Old Town. In addition to showing you both of these sites, I will also provide some of Panamá's 19th Century history. There is a great deal to see in Casco Viejo, including a wide variety of architecture from the 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries. Many of these beautiful old structures are grouped around four major plazas. Unfortunately, our tour only allowed us part of one afternoon to explore Casco Viejo. A thorough investigation of all of the interesting sites could take several days. I encourage anyone considering a visit to set aside enough time to see as much as you can of this World Heritage Site.


Plaza Independencia 

Catedral Metropolitana de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción is the Plaza's centerpiece. Plaza Independencia is also known as Plaza Catedral and Plaza Mayor. The Catedral is one of the largest churches in Latin America. As the seat of the Archdiocese of Panamá, it has had two predecessors. The original seat had been established in 1510 at Santa Maria la Antigua del Darién on the Caribbean Coast. In 1519, it was moved to Panamá Viejo on the Pacific Coast. Following the destruction of Panamá Viejo during Captain Henry Morgan's raid in 1671, the Archdiocese was again transferred. When Panamá City (now called Casco Viejo) was founded in 1673, the Archdiocese finally arrived in its present location. Plaza Independencia got its name because it was here that independence from Spain was proclaimed on November 28, 1821, and independence from Colombia was declared on November 3, 1903. Both announcements were delivered from the steps of the Catedral.

The church's Renaissance style facade is sometimes called the "Jesuit" style. The first version of Casco Viejo's cathedral was a rather unimpressive wood structure, hastily erected in 1674. A few years later, in 1677, a devout parishioner contributed the sum of 14,000 pesos. The funds were used to dismantle the remains of the old Panamá Viejo cathedral so that the stone could be used to construct the new one.  However, it was not until 1688 that the first stone for the current building was laid by Bishop Lucas Fernandez de Piedrahita. Work continued in fits and starts for the next 108 years. In 1737, a great fire devastated Casco Viejo, severely damaging the partially-constructed cathedral. The bells, which had survived Panamá Viejo's destruction, melted in the 18th Century conflagration. By 1749, all but the towers and the ashlar-stone facade were complete. In 1751, Bishop Francisco Javier de Luna Victoria y Castro began to supervise the project and the pace picked up. Born in 1695, he  was the first Archbishop of Panamá native to the isthmus. The Bishop died in 1777, before the church was finished. The Neo-classical bell towers were built between 1762 and 1796, during the last stage of construction. The towers are 36 m (118 ft) in height and are inlaid with mother-of-pearl from the Gulf of Panamá's Pearl Islands.

A statue of Manual Amador Guerrero stands in the Plaza in front of the Catedral. Dr. Manual Amador Guerrero (1833-1909) was a prominent physician who helped lead the successful movement to gain Panamanian independence from Colombia in 1903. He became a surgeon after graduating from the Universidad de Magdalena. For the last 30 years of the 19th Century, Dr. Amador Guerrero was associated with the Hospital Santo Tomás, an institution that had served Panamá's poor since the colonial era. During his tenure, he reorganized the hospital and acted as its Superintendent in addition to his duties as a doctor. In 1904, a Constituent Assembly elected the doctor as the first President of the new nation of Panamá. His wife, Maria Ossa de Amador designed the first flag of the Republic of Panamá.

 

Our Casco Viejo guide is clad in a pollera, the traditional dress of Panamá. Along with our Caravan Tour Director Pedro Palma, she shepherded our group as we walked a circuitous route up and down the narrow streets of Casco Viejo. It must have seemed to them a bit like herding cats, but they both managed to maintain their good humor. The role of cross-isthmus trade has been critical for Panamá since 1514. In that year Spain's King Phillip II directed the conquistador Pedro de Arias to build roads to connect the Caribbean and Pacific Coasts and to look into the possibility of a canal. The King wanted to facilitate the transport of Peruvian gold and oriental luxuries back to Spain. Panamá Viejo, and its successor Casco Viejo, were founded as key Pacific ports for this purpose. The trade flow continued throughout the colonial period and into the 19th Century, gaining great impetus from the California gold rush of 1849. In 1850, an American-owned railroad company began construction of a 76.6 km (47.6 mi) line across the isthmus. The project cost $8 million and as many as 10,000 lives before it was finished in 1855. It was one of the shortest railroads ever built, but it was a huge achievement against stupendous obstacles, including bottomless swamps, raging rivers, and deadly diseases. On a macabre note, the work was partially financed by the selling the corpses of workers who died during construction to medical schools for practice autopsies.

Two young girls stroll through the Plaza in front of Palacio Municipal. The Palacio is an early 20th Century building constructed in the Neo-classical style. In addition to housing the municipal government (similar to a US county government), the second floor of the Palacio is occupied by the Museo de la Historia de Panamá. The building was designed in 1907 by Italian architect Genaro Ruggieri, the same man who designed Panama's National Theatre. Although the building is a 20th Century creation, it has the distinction of housing the oldest continuously functioning government body on the Western Hemisphere's mainland. Panamá City's municipal government is a descendent of the one established in 1510 by Diego de Nicuesa at Santa Maria la Antigua del Darién. The current building was dedicated 400 years later in 1910.

The cupola of the Palacio Municipal is bracketed by two sets of Neo-classic sculptures. The sculpture on the left depicts the Greco-Roman god Mercury kneeling at the feet of the goddess Athena. The right-hand sculpture shows a standing man holding a pick and a seated youth holding various fruits. The municipal government's long history was, and is, a source of great pride for the isthmus community. In the late 19th Century, Panamá was still part of Colombia. and its leaders were bitterly frustrated because they sensed they had become a neglected appendage of the Colombian nation. However, they also desperately wanted a cross-isthmus canal. The canal idea was not a new one. After some experience with Panamá's wild interior, Pedro de Arias informed King Phillip of the project's enormous potential cost, difficulty, and overall impossibility given 16th Century technology. However, the vision would not die. In 1529, one of Vasco Nuñez de Balboa's former lieutenants suggested four possible canal routes, one of which is close to the actual route chosen almost 400 years later. During the 18th Century, such figures as Benjamin Franklin and the German philosopher Goethe advocated for an isthmus canal. During the 1820s, the South American Liberator Simón Bolivar sent engineers to Panamá to investigate a route but, in the end, took no action. The explorer Alexander Humbolt also suggested an isthmus canal, but in Nicaragua rather than Panamá.

A trim and handsome young policeman walks across the Plaza. Although there are drug gangs that operate in the poor areas on the fringes of Casco Viejo, there was a strong police presence in the Old Town area where we visited. As early as 1826, the US tried to negotiate a canal treaty with Colombia (then called New Granada). However, the New Granadans backed away, fearful of becoming a US colony. In 1835, Col. Charles Biddle wanted to build a railroad, but the idea was scuttled by President Andrew Jackson, who favored a canal but took no action. In 1848, the New Granadans became fearful of British intervention and signed a treaty making the US the guarantor of isthmus neutrality. The opening of the isthmus railroad in 1855 led to more proposals for a canal. The deluge of Gold Rush enthusiasts, and their attitude toward Panamanians, caused resentment among the isthmus population. After riots broke out in 1856, the US Navy landed marines. This was the first of many military interventions to follow. During the last half of the 19th Century, there were sporadic US efforts to secure a canal agreement, but Americans were distracted by the US Civil War and the problems of westward expansion. In 1863, New Granada renamed itself Colombia, and by 1879 the Colombians were fed up with US inaction. They signed a deal with Ferdinand de Lesseps, the French builder of the Suez Canal. However, digging a canal through the flat sand of the desert was not the same as pushing one through the swamps and jungled mountains of Panamá. By 1888, the French effort went bankrupt. The last efforts to revive de Lesseps' project was abandoned in 1894. The Colombian government, based in Bogatá, then rejected a US proposal to complete the project. These twin failures had profound effects on Panamá's trade dependent economy. By 1903, Panamanians had had enough. They decided to separate from Colombia and go it alone.

Tomás Arias was one of the junta that led Panamá to independence. His statue stands in Plaza Independencia in front of the Palacio Municipal. Tomás Arias (1856-1932) was a businessman and politician who was born in Panama City and educated in Panamá, Jamaica, and the United States. Like many other leaders of the independence movement, Arias was from an elite family. Also like the others, he had served the Colombian government in a variety of posts including Treasury administrator, assembly deputy for the Department of Panamá, representative to the Colombian Congress, senator, and government secretary. The new Republic of Panama was fortunate to have such enormous experience available in its initial leadership. After the separation from Colombia, Tomás Arias served the Republic as foreign minister, consul to Mexico, and chairman of Panama's National Assembly.

Iglesia San José and its Altar of Gold

The rather nondescript Iglesia de San José houses Panama's famous Altar of Gold. The church is only about two blocks from Plaza Independencia. Iglesia San José was built as a replica of the original Augustinian church, destroyed during the pirate attack on Panamá Viejo. Construction on the new church in Casco Viejo began in 1671, shortly after Panamá Viejo was abandoned. The unfinished church and its Augustinian convent were inaugurated in 1675. Work on Iglesia San José continued until 1677.

The main nave of the church, showing the Altar of Gold. The Altar itself was carved in the Baroque style popular in the 17th and 18th Centuries. The rest of the interior has been remodeled in the less-flamboyant Neo-classic style. In addition to the Altar of Gold, the church's single nave contains several other elaborate retablos, including one on either side of the altar area and two more on the right wall.

The Altar of Gold fills the entire end of the church's nave from floor to ceiling. The Altar has three levels and contains six niches. Five of the niches contain statues of saints or other religious figures. The top level contains a painting surrounded by a circular frame. The structure is not actually made of gold, but of carved mahogany covered with gold leaf. The figure on the second level in the center niche is San José, for whom the church is named. At his left is Santa Clara de la Cruz de Montefalco. To San José's right is San Tomás de Villa Nueva. On the bottom level to the left is Nuestra Señora de Consolation, and on the right side is San Agustin, patron of the Augustinian Order. In the bottom center is an elaborate cylinder that was closed at the time we visited.

View of the elaborately carved cylinder at the bottom center of the Altar. It is clearly constructed so that it can be opened, but what it contains remains a mystery to me. I have not been able to determine its contents. Just below the cylinder, Christ appears on a tiny crucifix. There is a wonderful legend about the Golden Altar and the pirate Captain Henry Morgan. When, in 1671, the residents of Panamá Viejo heard that the dreaded marauder was hacking his way through the jungle from the Caribbean side of the isthmus, they panicked and began hiding their valuables. At the time, an Augustinian monk named Juan de Villa de los Santos was in charge of the church.

Nuestra Señora de la Consolation, holding the Christ Child. This version of the Virgin Mary is especially revered by the Augustinians. As Captain Morgan's pirates drew closer, Juan the monk was faced with a difficult problem. The Altar of Gold was much too large and cumbersome to move. If Juan left it as it was, the pirates would no doubt hack it to pieces in order to carry off as much of it as they could. They would, no doubt, have been particularly angry to find that the altar was only covered with gold leaf, rather than solid gold. Who knew what sort of barbarities they might commit in their frustrated rage?

San Agustin, patron of the Augustinian Order. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo (354 AD - 430 AD) was an early Christian philosopher and theologian. He is recognized as one of the four most important Doctors of the Church and his writings heavily influenced early Catholic doctrine. In Panamá Viejo, Juan the monk wracked his brains for a solution to his dilemma. He hit upon the idea of disguising the Altar as something greedy pirates might overlook. Gathering the few parishioners who had not fled into the jungle, he began to paint the great structure with albayalde (silver oxide).

San José, holding the Christ Child. San José is the patron saint of workers and the protector of the Catholic Church. When Captain Morgan himself burst into the church, eager to pillage it of its gold, he found a black altar rather than one of shining gold. The pirate chief grumbled that he had been badly misinformed and that this was a poor example of an Augustinian church. Juan the monk worked hard to confirm this impression. He pleaded poverty and even suggested that the Morgan should make a donation to help complete an unfinished part of the church.

The circular painting at the top of the Altar shows God holding the Scales of Justice. Above his head is a triangular halo, representing the Trinity. The ploy of Juan the monk worked! He persuaded the pirate captain to make a magnificent donation of 1000 ducats. The story has a charming end. While turning to leave after giving his donation, the Captain looked Juan in the eye and said "I don't know exactly why, but I suspect you may be more of a pirate than I am!"

Detail of the Baroque carving. Here you can see the fine carving of the artists who created the Altar of Gold. According to the legend, the Altar of Gold was not destroyed in the great fire that consumed Panamá Viejo.  It was cleaned and restored and shipped to a rebuilt Iglesia San José at the new site of Panamá City--now Casco Viejo. Unfortunately, recent professional examinations of the Altar indicate that it was probably created some time after the fall of Panamá Viejo. Historians and archaeologists can often be terrible spoil sports! I prefer the legend.

This completes Part 4 of my Panamá series. I hope you enjoyed it. If so, and you would like to leave a question or comment, please do so in the Comments section below or email me directly. If you leave a question in the Comments box, PLEASE also leave your email address so I can respond.

Hasta luego, Jim