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Playa Grande
The Beauty Of A Remote Panamanian Beach
By Escapeartist Staff
Fidel told me that the place - Playa Grande - was as nice and as beautiful as that place in the movie The Beach, and then I said, “you mean without the people”. So I decided we should head out to Playa Grande; it’s near Isla Grande and is a little closer to Nombre de Dios. If you look at the last article I wrote in the magazine, you will see two islands in the distance in the first photo, well; Playa Grande is on the other side of where those islands are located.

You have to go in the the wet season - September to December – in the dry season the place is unreachable by boat because the waves are so big – it’s a surfer's paradise as the waves are huge and the floor is soft sand, but more on that later. Scuba diving around Isla Grande is great from September to December.

We spent Friday night on Isla Grande and Saturday morning Alexis picked us up on his small-boat and we headed out and reached Playa Grande by 10:30; the boat ride was only twenty minutes. There was a large house being constructed on a little strip of land that jutted out into the ocean. The workers were hauling cinder blocks around the construction, but it looked very far from done and most likely it seemed to us that it would never be finished. In this part of Panama – Caribbean Coast as you head towards Colombia – you get the feeling that nature is very strong and that it would be very hard to build anything that would last. From a distance, Playa Grande didn’t seem so grand, but the beach was the cleanest I’ve ever seen and the water was clean. We dropped anchor and a couple that must have hiked to the spot arrived wearing their bathing suits and sunglasses; they swam around the whole time we were there and left only minutes before we did.

Columbus passed by Playa Grande just before he reached Nombre de Dios, and in Nombre de Dios, he said lets turn back. Nombre de Dios is close to Playa Grande – say 30 or 40 minutes by boat - and the San Blas Islands are about seven towns away – farther than Nombre de Dios.

Behind Playa Grande is a steep hill that is green with vegetation and beyond the hill, and on a footpath you can find at the back of the beach, there are houses owned by campesino farmers who live up in the mountains.

When the boat anchored one campesino was walking by with his three dogs; he returned with a horse. Many of the campesinos who live in this area have moved here from Los Santos Province, Panama. Los Santos is on the west coast of Panama, far from here, and it has always had a reputation for being very Spanish – the Indian populations were amalgamated with the Spanish or were killed. 

The landscape in Los Santos is sparse and hardly a tree stands as the people love to raise cattle and therefore the forests have been cut and the land decimated by overgrazing.

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The fields in Los Santos are golden, and in the summer the fields look as though on fire from the bright sun and dry ground.

There are some trees left but they are always in the far distance and look huge with shade and branches.  Los Santos is the home of Panamanian Carnival. And so many of the people from Los Santos out of need - lack of arable land - have moved to other parts of the country, such as the areas around Playa Grande that are tropical green.

I told Alexis that I wanted to climb the hill behind the beach as I thought that would be a good place to take some photos and get some exercise. I wanted to sweat, and a walk in the countryside and then a swim in the ocean, sounded good to me. We walked up the trail into the mountains and I was thinking to myself: where did all of this horseshit come from. There was horseshit all over the trail. With black flies. Then one of the compesinos came down the trail with a grayish horse; after he passed we walked for, say, 5 minutes and we met up with another beautiful red horse, but without an owner who was hurrying down the hill in search of the campesino and the other horse. Alexis and I laughed at each other and then the horse passed by, but for a little it looked back at us.

Unlike on Isla Grande, here I was worried about snakes and spiders; I had to remember this was the mainland and unlike the island the wildlife was abundant and always returned. We passed by some underbrush and then: we heard a third horse in the brush nearby, but couldn’t see it; we could hear its movements behind a wall of green brush. 

After kneeling under some cane-like brush, the horse came into view; it was white and followed us around: at times it ran by in the far distance and then, suddenly, was behind us looking out from green tropical plants. I was taking photos on the way up; trying to get something. You could see the islands in the distance and our boat was placed in the center of Playa Grande.

We headed down and the sun was strong and for the first time in a long time the heat of the sun burned my skin, but not bad.

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We got in the boat again and we pushed off from shore and started back in the direction of Isla Grande. 

We were headed in the direction of Portobelo, a town up the coast, closer to Isla Grande and farther from Nombe de Dios. There was a canal there, known as the Grand Canal; it had been carved out of a mangrove swamps, just wide enough so that boats could make it through. As we headed in the direction of the Grand Canal, we passed by sailboats with names from the U.S.; they all had a little motor boat on the back of them; the motorboats had small Evenrudes, no Mercurys or Johnsons. 

The weather also changed. From bright sunlight it turned to dark overcast and there was a cold rain falling as we were arriving to the Grand Canal. To enter the Canal you go through a small lagoon and as you push deeper into the lagoon you see in the distance the entrance of the Canal: as we arrived the boat right behind us hit the gas and passed by quickly in order to enter the Canal before us. When you enter the Canal the first thing that hits you are the size of the roots in the mangrove, but even better is the smell of sulfur in the air. Salty sulfur runs up your nose: smell and memory, pushed together.

We passed through, my back hurt from the hard wooden benches on the boat. We passed the boats we had seen on the way to the Grand Canal. Next stop was Isla Grande and we took showers and picked up our stuff and headed off the island and back to Panama City.

Portobelo:

As you leave Isla Grande and head towards Panama City you pass through the town of Portobelo. The town was an intricate part of colonial Panama; there were other important towns less known to people, such as: Nombre de Dios, Acla, Careta, and Santa Maria Antiqua. These are towns that were very important in the history of Panama. But of all those colonial towns on the Caribbean, none has lasted or is more important than Portobelo. On October 21st the black Christ celebration occurs here. The celebration that absolves all crooks of their thieving for the year. The festival goes back to the colonial period in Panama. The story as told to me goes like this, and they’re other versions: There are other black Christs in the world: France and the Philippines have their black Christs. Obviously, at a very early period after Christianity took root, people realized that Christ was probably Arab and looked nothing like what you normally see today. The black Christ of Protobelo was being transported through, or had been made in, Portobelo: maybe the ship had come from the Philippines or Africa or who knows from where. Protobelo was important as a center of piracy. If Australia is the land of the convict, then Panama is the land of the pirate. Anyway, Portobelo had been a center of piracy since Drake died in the harbor of Portobelo – the island in front of the town is named after him. The black Christ came to or from Portobelo and was put on a ship: the ship crashed out at sea and the black Christ washed up on shore. It was taken to sea and thrown in the ocean; it again appeared, and this time the town took it in and decided that it must want to stay in Portobelo. And the 21st of October was declared the day of the black Christ. And this holiday for the pirates meant two-weeks in which they were absolved from prosecution and were allowed free passage in Portobelo. In short, pirates could come, be forgiven for their sins and enjoy themselves without having to run. A Panamá Special. Today people walk from all over to celebrate the black Christ, they walk days to be forgiven for their sins. Their feet swell up and they scream and cry and people go wild from exhaustion. When they reach the black Christ, they ask for forgiveness.

Max Weber seems to me to have been the first person in Western thought to recognize what he called the rationalization of religion – meaning religion formed especially to the organization of the modern world in which it needed to reach. God out of the meadow and out of the trees and out of the car engine and out of the radio as in Panama, and rationalized into a church, a church separated from the secular world, and from the church religion could be rationalized out of the world. Good or bad news depending on you beliefs. Why do I mention this: well the black Christ festival is like a return to the expressiveness of a bygone time when people needed to show the emotions they had about their sins and their religion - and they needed to show their emotions publicly. Of course this sentiment still exists today, but today, you show your emotions on the living room floor in front of the television, or in an air conditioned church, not by walking 50 miles in the blazing sun to a black Christ, in a forgotten colonial town. At the black Christ festival people tell their sins and repent. I could have walked down the street in Portobelo on October 21st with $100 notes sticking out from my pant's pockets and no one would have touched them, and on another day these people would rob me blind with a gun and maybe end my life. 

Information:

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