Tag Archives: canal

A Canal Runs Through It

From dreary Scottish mornings to steaming hot tropical nights. After 24 weary hours on the ‘Cheap Eye’ from London via Frankfurt and Santo Domingo, the sweltering heat of Panama City hit us like a ton of heated bricks. The thermal gear, so recently valued atop Ben Nevis, was immediately relegated to the very bottom of the bag.

Panama is a shipping gateway for the world; for us, it would also be the gateway to six glorious months in South America. But for most tourists and even locals there’s one main attraction here, a source of great love and national pride.

Local drop
Delicious.

Aaaand this ol’ thing.

To the Pacific

The eponymous canal cuts across the country a few k’s north of the city. An exhibition at the Miraflores Locks proclaims its notoriety from New York all the way to, er, Melboerne.

melbs
That’s gotta hurt, Victorians.

I freely confess I’d always thought, “OK, they dug a ditch. Good job, but a feat of modern engineering? Pahlese.” Maybe with less sass than that, but still. That attitude is immediately abandoned once you get a close up look at the scale of the thing. It’s absolutely massive. Huge doesn’t begin to describe it. My phone’s Panorama shot looks comically inept.

canalscope

Yeaaaah.

Panama canal

To the Atlantic

In any case it’s extremely impressive. They’re also in the process of building more locks to increase its capacity. We spent a few hours at the visitor centre at Miraflores, packed with mostly locals. Sadly, despite our best efforts we failed to see a ship pass through the locks. Slow day on the canal; just our luck. Word is it’s quite a spectacle. Next time.

This waterway is partly (mostly even) why Panama is the richest country in central America. There’s money here. The Panama City CBD looks a bit like a mini Manhattan.

fishermen

We steered well clear of it and anchored down in Casco Viejo – the old town. It’s a cool neighbourhood with massive churches, colonial buildings and colourful streets. The houses that aren’t carefully restored are charmingly run down. There’s fantastic street art everywhere. In other words, it’s the kind of neighbourhood Kate can’t take 2 steps in without taking a photo.

Side by side

old convent

Marketplace

Plenty more here.

By day we wandered the streets and sought solace from the heat in a number of well aircon’d cafes. By evening, we sampled the excellent range of local food on offer. Fish tacos, patacones (fried plantains), arepas (tortilla-esque bread pockets). But the highlight was a simple meal we rustled up at the Mercado de Mariscos. Ceviche is raw fish that cooks by marinating in a potent mixture of citrus and spices. Dished up cold in a Styrofoam cup, it’s sharp, tart and extremely refreshing. And amazing.

ceviche

Can’t remember a better $2 spent.

Our last task in Panama was attending the briefing for our island-hopping trip to Colombia. Our lovely guide Jessica threw a ton of information at us regarding the trip. To the crowd of mostly twenty-something backpackers she laboured on the point of thorough customs searches and severe penalties for drug possession. “If you do have any drugs, please do them tonight BEFORE we leave!”

Good advice – we returned to the ceviche stall for one last hit.

City Of The (Amster)Damned

Amsterdam is one of Europe’s most picturesque cities: all cobblestones and canals, trees and tulips, overflowing with centuries-old art, music and personality. And yet mention you’re heading over for a weekend? Eyebrows raise, heads nod discreetly, smiles become knowing.

All this because Amsterdam has been reduced to Britain’s grubby, messy party destination of choice. It seems to be viewed a bit like Vegas without the gambling, the glitz or the hotel slippers. Of course it’s always had something of a reputation, but as soon as we boarded the plane it was clear: we were the only ones who were not in either (A) obnoxious chav packs, (B) balding, overweight and already drunk middle-aged stag/bucks parties or (C) balding, overweight and already drunk middle-aged hens parties.

Add to this heady mix a bunch of over-excited 18-20 year old Americans fuelled by the thrill of being ‘legally’ allowed to partake in various activities, and you have an uber-touristy crowd that is decidedly low-fucking-brow.

This is, truly, a shame.

Thankfully, the immediate company we were keeping was improved with the presence of super-cool friend and current Euro-roamer-extraordinaire, Mandy D.

The city itself is a joy to explore, once you get away from the used-toilet-bowl part of town that is the red light district. Canals filter like veins from the town centre and beyond, lined with trees and bicycles. The buildings slant, lean, twist and generally display a complete disregard for architectural integrity.

The waterways become a way of ascribing distance: “Oh, that looks like it’s about 4 canals away.” This navigatory technique isn’t the most accurate, but it is the most fun.

For beer, it is very hard to stray from the shamefully obvious choice of Heineken. Especially when you’re in the Heineken factory.

cheers

It’s hard not to feel anything but love for this delicious Dutch nectar.

feel the love

As for food, fries and mayonnaise may not sound like much of a delicacy, but until you’ve greedily shovelled them from a greasy paper cone into your mouth at 2am on a cold and rainy Amsterdam street, you’re probably not qualified to comment. We basically subsisted on these Frits the entire time – morning, noon and night.

three cones

These are the only Amsterdam cones we were interested in.

On that point, much is made of the pot and the sex but it’s fair to say Kate, Mandy and I found the whole coffee-shop thing a bit of a yawn, really. Mandy’s account of this is funny (and depressingly accurate), check it out.

All in all we touched back down in London a little over 48 hours after we left, and managed to have a cracking good time in between. A few more pics are here.

Beavertail O’Clock; Beer O’Clock

As a parting gift, during our last week in Canada, the temperature finally (?) dropped to a more regular range. In Ottawa that means highs of around -10 degrees. Hence Mike’s shovelling responsibilities.

Quite possibly the only good thing to come of this development was that the Rideau Canal running through the centre of the city opened for skating, forming the longest skating rink in the world. Mike will beg to differ that this was in fact a good thing.

But we braved the cold and headed down to the canal, putting in a skating performance that all Australians can be proud of. Meanwhile the locals whooshed passed us, many using the canal to commute to or from downtown.

I’m the brown blur in the photo below. You might not be able to make me out, I was going pretty fast.

kate skate 2

Fortunately, all that effort was rewarded with a Beavertail, a local specialty (deep fried dough covered in cinnamon). Nom nom nom.

beavertail

We’ve spent the last few days in Toronto in preparation for our departure from Canada. After much deliberation, it seemed only fitting to spend the last day of our 12 months in the Americas at a brewery.

The Steam Whistle microbrewery located in downtown Toronto pumps out a significant amount of its one and only beer, a superb pilsner, on a daily basis. We were lucky enough to visit on a bottling day.

green machine

We could only marvel at the fortune of this lady working in “quality control” who is paid to look at beer all day. Mike was sure he would be much more excited than she seemed if that was his job.

quality control

To finish, we sampled the freshest beer we will probably ever taste. Check out the time stamp on Mike’s bottle below – our tour started on 20 Jan 2011 at 13:30.

the freshest beer we'll ever taste

Delicious! And of course, we got some souvenirs for the road (Mike’s perfectly matched beanie not being one of them).

take aways

With that, it is time to go. Tomorrow we are off to the UK to begin the next chapter of our adventure. And no doubt, sample a few more ales. Cheers!