Cornucopia
Page 66
*
At the same precisely the same moment Pat Kennedy disembarked at Tocumen International Airport, thirty kilometres to the west, Liam Clancy arrived at the Albrook Bus Terminal in Panama City. Kennedy had travelled Champagne class from London, some ten thousand kilometres distant, whilst Liam, with his newly found girlfriend, spent about the same time to cover the distance from Bocas, about three hundred kilometres to the west of Panama City. The difference was the young couple had made the journey in the cramped back seat of a bus, above the motor with the heat and noise that went with it. Luckily for them they were spared the odours of the toilet, an arm’s length from Liam: it was locked … Fuera de Servicio … Out of Order.
Liam was was almost oblivious to the discomfort with Gisele by his side and as the hours passed he found himself more and more captivated by her presence, which did not prevent the journey from being exhausting.
On their arrival at the Albrook bus station, he showed the address of the Plaza Bolivar appartment to the taxi driver who feigned ignorance in the hope he could extract an extortionate price from the young gringo, but when Liam questioned him in fluent Spanish he demurred, announcing a lower price though largely above the going rate. Liam was too weary to argue and nodded okay.
Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of the Casablanca, like two adventurers newly arrived from the wilds, where they were warmly greeted by an astonished Tom Barton who presented them to Ariel Romeo, the owner of the apartment booked for them, who had the concierge take their bags as he pointed the way to the entrance of the grand ochre coloured edifice. The spacious apartment was situated on the third floor and was decorated and furnished in a forties style which corresponded with the Colombia Hotel’s period of past glory. From the window of the main room they had a splendid view overlooking plaza Bolivar and the pavement terraces of cafés below.
After showing them around Ariel handed over the keys, wished them an enjoyable stay and left. Gisele threw open the windows to admire the view, she was delighted. Then after freshening up they joined Tom Barton who was waiting at the Casablanca’s bar.
Wanting to stretch their legs after their long day in the bus they could only agreed to Barton’s suggestion for a short walk before diner in a restaurant nearby the French Embassy two or three cuadras from the Hotel Colombia. The restaurant was modern and stylish with a terrace overlooking a small square. Barton recommended a gourmet menu: a dozen dishes of selected local specialities, served with first class red and white wines. He calmed their fears, reassuring them that each dish was no more than a couple mouthfuls. The first was beef marrow and confit d’oignon followed by ceviche, a delicious local dish of marinated raw fish in a mixture lemon juice, garlic, red onions and spices.
Hotel Colombia
As the plates followed they relaxed, observing the flow of Panamanians arriving in the square in an almost constant stream of large upmarket SUVs, for whom a dinner of a few hundred dollars was nothing, an uneasy contrast with the scene they had passed a block or two away in the dark side streets, where poor families squatted outside of their wretchedly cramped dwellings, the smell of their simple evening meals wafting into the evening air, the women watching over their tiny charcoal stoves in the narrow doorways of their pathetic homes, whilst the men sat in resigned silence on the curbstones outside watching their small children play.
A couple of days earlier Barton had happened on the scene, a constant reminder to him of life’s inequalities, realizing he was first in line on the bench of the accused. But there was little he could do except promote employment by investing his gains in productive industry.
On returning to their appartment Liam checked his mail and to his surprise discovered a message from Pat Kennedy announcing he had already arrived in Panama City. With a quick call they agreed to meet the next day for lunch, which would leave them time to settle in. Liam gladly accepted Pat’s suggestion they all get together around midday, and sensing he wanted explore, he proposed the Casco Viejo and what better meeting point than the Casablanca.