Pirates of the Carribean

Panama City, Panama – Cartagena, Colombia

I’m not sure I ever saw Johnny Depp’s movie. But I also never really made the connection. Not that I ever even thought about it. It was just a movie title. Could just as easily have been Pirates of Lake Superior, or Pirates of Chesapeake Bay. In my mind, it was a pirate movie that just so happened to be set in the Carribean. 

But what I’ve come to understand is that there are a number of very good reasons that some of the world’s more famous pirates and pirate stories come from this area. First off, treasure. Any good pirate story has to have treasure. And it turns out that back in the pirate days there was plenty of good treasure literally floating around the Carribean. 

You see, the Spanish were looting the Incas – taking all their gold and silver and artifacts and stuff and shipping it back to Europe. As I understand it they would sail from Peru up to Panama, then cart their treasures across the isthmus, and from there sail through the Carribean Sea on the way to the Pacific. The availability of treasure was a good first step toward some healthy pirating. Treasure to trove. (Is that a thing? It sounds good, doesn’t it?)

And then, at that time, there were plenty of people that were happy to become pirates. Chief among them were former slaves. In Panama these folks would escape into the jungle and then try to scratch out a living. Not the easiest task. Pretty attractive to join Blackbeard’s crew, maybe have an opportunity to make your former masters sorry, and hopefully make some good money to boot . . .

It also helps that the Carribean is pretty far from Europe – so the pirates didn’t have to deal with big pesky navies or anything. Just wander around picking off defenseless little ships – and then escape to some nearby tropical island or something to enjoy the spoils.

So while I never put two and two together, it makes perfect sense that lots of pirates were hanging out in the Carribean. 

We found out more about the pirates when we visited Panama Viejo, the ruins of the first European settlement on the Pacific. I guess Sir Henry Morgan – better known as Captain Morgan, of rum fame – was the pirate who led the attack. It turns out that the British basically commissioned Morgan to ransack Panama. Later, when the Spanish discovered this fact, the British had to pretend to admonish Sir Henry, but in the end he retired a wealthy man and drank himself to death by the time he was 55 or so (my age . . .). 

Lots more to say on these early buccanneers, but I need to skip ahead to some latter day freebooters. 

Let’s start with Wingo Airlines – based in the Carribean, operating out of Cartegana. As we discovered, definitely a Pirates of the Carribean Airlines . . .

We boxed up Old Dan and Little Ann outside of Rali Bikes in Panama City; one of Diana’s pedals refused to come off – but otherwise smooth sailing. 

But the taxi to the airport? That was crazy. We’ve been biking around town so much that we neglected to notice how horrible the traffic is if you’re in a car. Terrible. Panama City is clearly growing too fast for its own good. It ended up taking well over an hour to go ten miles. 

Should not have been a problem. We were still there with more than an hour to spare. But, alas, that was not enough . . .

When we purchased the tickets we had tried to pay extra for the bikes – but I guess with the language barrier we didn’t do it right. No problem – we’ll just do it now . . .

Nope . . .

Wingo Pirate No. 1: “We are so sorry. It is impossible now . . .”

Wingo Pirate No. 2: “Your only option now is to pay us $167 per bike.”

”But we only paid $180 for our tickets. How can the bikes be that much?”

Wingo Pirate No. 1: “We are so sorry, but you only have two minutes to decide – then it is too late . . .”

All I can say is that Old Dan and Little Ann better earn their stripes in South America. 

The Pirates of the Carribean known as Wingo Airlines saw some booty . . . and took it . . . 

Skipping ahead to Cartagena. Quick and easy flight. And it turns out that right in front of the Cartagena Airport is a great place to assemble a bike . . . or two.

Next pirates? The folks who run the little “Restaurant & Hotel” we stayed in last night. Horrible place. Windowless room. (Have I mentioned that I can get a little claustrophobic?) On top of that, the air conditioner didn’t work; not that big of a deal unless you are in a room with absolutely no other ventilation. And the room was located about 10’ from the restaurant and the street – meaning that there was tons of noise, talking, yelling, and fireworks basically all night. Can’t believe they took our money for that place. Piracy!

Last. And this is the one that was really informative of life in Cartagena: a guy at the beach. The girls didn’t get in until late in the day, so Diana and I went for a bike ride in the countryside around Cartagena. When we finished we stopped to take a swim in the ocean. 

Diana is in the water instantly, but, after my horrible night’s sleep in that terrible hotel, I’m thinking more along the lines of a nap. There are carts selling stuff all over the place because there are about a million people on the beach. I go to buy some water, but, of course, they don’t have any change for my 20,000 peso note – which is entirely ridiculous because 20,000 pesos is worth about 5 dollars. How can you not have change for a $5?

While I’m waiting a guy comes and gives me some crab. Super nice. Shows me how to open the crab up and put some lime on. Delicious. Just then Diana comes back and I introduce “mi esposa” and he gives her a little crab. We all take a picture together. 

We’re about to take off, but I figure I should pay this guy something for his generosity. 

“Cuanto cuesta?” I ask.

”250 mil,” he says.

It always takes a day or two to adjust to the new conversion rates when we arrive in a new country – and Colombia is particularly bad this way because the conversion is something like 4,000 pesos to one dollar. Not the easiest math . . . And then you add in the “mil” thing and I’m never quite sure what they’re talking about.

I assume he doesn’t want 250 pesos – equivalent of about 5 cents – so I’m thinking he wants 2,500 pesos. I realize that the water people still haven’t given me change and I inquire about that. Eventually they give me like four 2,000 peso notes back. 12,000 pesos (20,000 less the 8,000 they gave me back) is highway robbery for two little bottles of water – but whatever. I have bigger fish to fry – or, I guess, crabs to shuck – at this point . . .

I give the crab guy two 2,000 peso notes

He is outraged. 

“No. 2,500 mil,” he says. 

“What? Are you crazy? For a few little pieces of crab?”

We haggle back and forth for a while, but he is very insistent. 

It’s at this point that it really sinks in that this guy is about 6’4” and full of muscle. (Blog points for identifying the song that this description comes from . . .) 

I’m calculating in my head the least I can pay him without getting killed. We finally settle on 20,000 pesos – or about five bucks. Still ridiculous for a little crab meat that I never even agreed to pay for – but I walk away in one piece. I’m sure that was by far his biggest “sale” of the day . . .

So, you see, the pirates of the Carribean are still alive and well. They’ve changed methods a little bit – but they have the same basic goal in mind: prey upon unwitting Gringos and their treasure . . .

A small price to pay for my lesson of the day: Latin America in tourist areas is much different than Latin America everywhere else. Or, maybe stated better: the world in tourist areas is much different than the world everywhere else. 

I guess that’s one of the reasons we love bike touring so much. You end up enjoying the best of all the non-tourist areas. And when you do that you don’t have to assume that the crab guy is just trying to scam you. Life is just not as fun when you have to assume that everyone is a pirate. 

But I’m not going to leave you on a sour note like this . . .

My last story is to show how wonderful people and the world really are – you just have to get out of tourist world to see it . . .

So our ride yesterday was amazing. We start out riding through real Cartagena. Not the walled city – where the tourists wander around in cobblestoned, beautiful bliss. No, we started out biking through the part of Cartagena where locals actually live. 

Crazy. Motorcycles and mopeds zig-zagging everywhere. Music blaring – and I mean BLARING – from every other house. Feral dogs wandering in full force. Garbage. No cobblestone streets here – pot holes and dirt and inexplicable speed bumps – because it’s impossible to drive fast with all this chaos anyway. 

Pretty fun riding – as long as it’s for a short duration and you know you get to go back to the comfort of your hotel or whatever when you’re done.

Eventually we reach the countryside and it’s quiet and green and bucolic – with perfect roads, and, seemingly, no traffic at all. Quite the contrast. 

We end up making our way to a little town – Santa Rosa. Lots of the same vibe. Music booming. People drinking. (There are no cordoned off beer gardens in this part of the world . . .) It is New Year’s Day – but this is much different than America. It feels like the whole town is just having one big party. There aren’t separate events for the various families or friend groups. Everyone is just milling around together. I guess that’s the sense of community that we are always looking for in America . . . but rarely find. 

I’m getting kind of hungry so I call a stop. Maybe we can find something to eat . . .

What followed makes up for all the piracy. These two women are making empanadas and patacones and, as it turned out, a bunch of other stuff. We order four empanadas and four patacones. They give us big smiles, and, really, everyone is super welcoming and nice. 

The food? Amazing. Right out of the fryer – which is just a giant pot over a flaming wood fire. Like so many things down here, probably doesn’t quite meet OSHA standards . . .

Total cost: 10,000 pesos – or about $2.50. Gives you a little perspective on how ridiculous crab guy was . . .

Oh, and they adored Dr. Liu. I went and bought some water across the street and when I returned they had set up a special chair for Princess Di. I guess she told them how much she liked the food, and it was all over . . . they were in love.

We eat and chat with folks. The music continues to pulse. People are dancing and smiling. A wonderful day.

So, yes, I guess you need to be careful in tourist areas. But I would rather live life as the naive Midwesterner who trusts and sees the best in people. Life is just so much more fun that way . . . 

(For reference, read the children’s story A Bargain for Frances. Frances is a badger or something, and she has this friend named Thelma, another badger. Thelma tricks Frances out of a tea set that Frances wanted. The moral of the story is that life is more fun when you don’t always have to be careful, when you can trust people . . . Or is it just that you can’t trust people from Wisconsin? Those darn badgers . . . Whatever the case, I love the Frances stories . . .)