In my mind’s eye my image of going to ‘see’ the Panama Canal involved sitting quietly on a bench beside a wide river contemplating the sonorous passing of vast ships against a verdant jungle background on the other bank. Little did I realise that the only real way to ’see’ the canal is to take a trip out to the Mireflores lock where you ascend a series of escalators and elevators to gain purchase on a wide high level deck all the better to view the ships as they progress through the lock gates. At first sight it looked just like the Kennet and Avon canal at Bradford on Avon except a bit bigger in scale, and rather more automated.
Perched on the deck I was lucky to find a viewing spot by the rail, suddenly to be pressed on all sides by folks with lens endeavouring to snap the passage of a mighty cruise ship to the point where i felt I might be tipped over. My puny phone was no match for the endlessness of the competing lens’s on display. On the ship the passengers pressed on deck to take pics of us taking pics of them, many of the posh ones in the cabins spying us through telephotos and long long telescopes.
Little was said as both groups warily filmed each other. As we grew more comfortable with the scene outbreaks of waving broke out between ship and gawkers. So there we were consuming them as they consumed us, all as part of the Panama experience. I guess for the passengers this ten hour passage was a highlight of the cruise, so we were predisposed to envy at what they had in front of them as they passed through lakes and rivers. On the other hand they could not get off and enjoy the full ‘canal experience’ that we had paid our $15 dollars to enjoy.
A film show introduced by a Buzz Lightyear cartoon character with lantern jaw and deep American accent to match ( I guess a genuine Panamanian historian would have been a little too much to ask). Much of the narrative concerned Ohh Ahhh statistics relating to the undoubted engineering wonders needed to carve this passage out of unyielding rock river and forest.
One stat that was repeated was that each lock-gate weighed the equivalent of 300 elephants which struck me as a curious unit of measurement. All I could see thereafter was a picture of the three hundred noble creatures drowning helplessly as the weight of water hit them when the sluice gates above then were opened. Why elephants, which are hardly indigenous, or at least not since the Mastadon became extinct? 100 mastodon perhaps? 2000 sloths? 15000 pelicans which at least fly overhead and highly visible and measurable? Why animals at all? Why not the weight of Wales?
The canal experience was wonderfully done with much information on engineering but relatively little on the sociology or politics of the whole endeavour. We never found out how many died in the ten year programme of digging the passageway through rock and swamp, but we do know they were black. Nor was there any mention of the current economics of canal but there was the suggestion of trickle down for all. On the subject of Noriega there was total silence. I will retain the expression ‘trans- isthmian’ for the rest of my days however, looking to drop it into conversation wherever possible. In my mind’s eye my image of going to ‘see’ the Panama Canal involved sitting quietly on a bench beside a wide river contemplating the sonorous passing of vast ships against a verdant jungle background on the other bank.
Little did i realise that the only real way to ’see’ the canal is to take a trip out to the Mireflores lock where you ascend a series of escalators and elevators to gain purchase on a wide high level deck all the better to view the ships as they progress through the lock gates. At first sight it looked just like the Kennet and Avon canal at Bradford on Avon except a bit bigger in scale, and rather more automated. Perched on the deck I was lucky to find a viewing spot by the rail, suddenly to be pressed on all sides by folks with lens endeavouring to snap the passage of a mighty cruise ship to the point where i felt I might be tipped over. My puny phone was no match for the endlessness of the competing lens’s on display. On the ship the passengers pressed on deck to take pics of us taking pics of them, many of the posh ones in the cabins spying us with telephotos an telescopes.
Little was said as both groups warily filmed each other. As we grew more comfortable with the scene outbreaks of waving broke out between ship and gawkers. So there we were consuming them as they consumed us all as part of the Panama experience. I guess for the passengers this ten hour passage was a highlight of the cruise, so we were predisposed to envy at what they had in front of them as they passed through lakes and rivers. On the other hand they could not get off and enjoy the full ‘canal experience’ that we had paid our $15 dollars to enjoy. A film show introduced by Buzz lightyear cartoon character ( I guess a genuine Panamanian historian would have been a little too much to ask) and much of the narrative concerned Ohh ahhh statistics relating to the undoubted engineering wonders needed to carve this passage out of unyielding rock river and forest.
One stat that was repeated was that each lock-gate weighed the equivalent of 300 elephants which struck me as a curious unit of measurement. All I could see thereafter was a picture of the three hundred noble creatures drowning helplessly as the weight of water hit them when the sluice gates opened. Why elephants, which are hardly indigenous, or at least not since the Mastadon became extinct? 100 mastodon perhaps? 2000 sloths? 15000 pelicans which at least fly overhead and highly visible and measurable? Why animals at all? Why not the weight of Wales?
The canal experience was wonderfully done with much information on engineering but relatively little on sociology or politics of the whole endeavour. We never found out how many died in the ten year programme of digging the passageway through rock and swamp, but we do know they were black. Nor was there any mention of the current economics of canal but there was the suggestion of trickle down for all. On the subject of Noriega there was total silence. I will retain the expression ‘trans- isthmian for the rest of my days however.