The Chivas of Panama looked like these in the early 1950’s. It was a much less complicated time in Panama and the bus rides were more pleasant.
With my credits in hand my return ride to Colon made me feel victorious. From the bus, however, I again experienced how people lived in those days on the outskirts of both urban areas. The first couple of stops en route I saw people getting on and off the bus at one of those unscheduled stops that the vehicle was constantly forced to make. Riding the bus was even better than taxi transport as they would often leave you wherever you asked the driver to leave you. Continue reading
I would have been grateful for someone like this, a Chichero who sells cold coconut water to passengers on the Diablo Rojo buses.
Quickly walking up Calle Estudiante I reached The National Institute with every intention of returning to Colon as soon as possible, encouraged that I would have a place in that new school. But before I could think further I was rapidly ascending the stairway leading to the Grand Hall or “Aula Maxima.” Continue reading