I moved to... Panama

One reader relocates

I was standing in the back of a white pickup truck flying down a dirt road with Bob Marley blasting in the background on the way to a boat ramp carved out of the mangroves. With an ex-military operative at the wheel, and a plan to bomb around the bay looking at islands for sale by boat, I knew I had found a spot that promised all the adventure I could handle. That was four years ago, on a semester off from college. That was my first exposure to the Wild West real estate frontier and quality of life in Panama, Central America.

I had come from four months of mountaineering and travelling throughout Chile and Argentina to check out the buzz I had heard on the road about Panama. I wanted a place where I could meld my professional and personal life; a place that provided lots of adventure, wild people, beautiful territory, and great business potential. Panama was it. Now my mornings are filled with the sound of hollow thuds as the mangoes rain from the trees onto the clay-tiled roofs. From my hammock I can hear the howling and cackling greetings of the cowboys as they pass each other on their horses in the main square; and the  dogs lay dormant in the middle of the road where they shake off their dreams from the night before. Pedasi, a city in the south of the country, is a place where the old world culture remains unscathed by foreign ideals. I was drawn by the raw and tough beauty of the place and the resolve and culture of the people.

The currency in the village is anything but cash. Assistance with rounding up cattle,  teaching English to children, adopting street animals, picking up hitchhikers, pulling tractors out of the mud with the truck, and delivering construction material to villagers building houses is a currency more viable then dollars and cents.

As one of the only outsiders, or gringos living in Pedasi, I stand out a bit. But one of my greatest adventures was gaining the respect and acceptance of the people. I had to play their game and assimilate myself into their community in accordance with their rules. Needless to say this entailed becoming rather promiscuous (machismo culture) and, for a time, a raging alcoholic – a calculated course of action on my part in order to disperse any preconceived notions held about me and to be accepted as an equal. Within three months of exhausting efforts and a wounded liver, I had managed to acquire the name Gringo Loco and win the respect, confidence, and acceptance of the town’s people.

Although Panama is only the size of South Carolina, it's a country of stark contrast. In the course of one day you can be chasing cows, and then sipping sake in a high-end sushi bar in Panama City, the capital.

Work is anything but dull: The last contract I had was managing a rural development project only accessible via helicopter or a three-hour boat ride from the last village in the Caribbean basin. Activities included overseeing the local Indian crews as they constructed houses in the middle of nowhere with nothing more then some string, chainsaws and nails and hammers, to ensuring the neighbors didn’t try to steal land by moving up their fences. I encountered every poisonous snake imaginable and bumped into drug runners who are heavily active in the area. Lets just say I had very little sleep  in my hammock during that time, but boy was it beautiful.

It is also very easy to give back in Panama. Due to a lack of governmental resources, a lot of people can't meet their basic needs. During a particularly bad flood last year, myself and some other investors worked with relief agencies including the Red Cross and the Special Police Force to deliver food and medical care to villagers who had been stranded for weeks. It was amazing how easy it was to step in as a private individual to fulfill roles we are so use to the government handling in the West. We were instructing commandos as we flew up and down the coast on a 35-foot patrol boat powered by six 250-horsepower outboards. Sporting camouflage gear, wielding AK47s and a few bottles of rum, we worked day and night through the storm for four days to distribute food and medical supplies.

There is a large contingent of creative, motivated, and good all-round crazy foreigners  in Panama who are always available to broaden your horizons or help out in any way. From the historic district, Casco Viejo, where eccentric street bums wander streets lined with funky cafes, to Cayuco races from the Caribbean to the Pacific through the Panama Canal, the country is a trip.

For those with passion and drive who are seeking an alternative to the norm, Panama is a blank canvas - a country where you can take an idea from conception to fruition, and can affect real change very quickly.

For more on Jesse and the projects he is involved in, visit:

www.pedasi.org
www.jesselevin.com
www.fdcpanama.com