Panama City is a vibrant clash of old and new. Towering
skyscrapers, stretching out to sea on filled-in land, glass reflecting back the
blue of the midday sky; while in the slums and old sections, building facades
crumble and decay, dilapidated history. Everywhere construction clogs and
clangs, the revamping of a prospering metropolis.
Casco Viejo, a small oceanfront quarter, was once the
entirety of Panama City. Now practically falling down, the old city contains
hollowed-out shells of former buildings, empty windows staring blindly on
narrow streets, weeds overgrowing windows. Bordering on being a slum, its roots
in history.
And everywhere, mixed in among the rubble, stalking pigeons,
relaxing in the parks and churches, were cats. As we walked about the old city,
taking in the history and seeking shelter from the daily rains, more cats.
Outnumbering stray dogs, Casco Viejo’s cats were more numerous than we had
previously encountered.
As a cat lover, I find this to be a good sign for things to
come in Panama. Just as the presence of a handful of boutique hotels and
restaurants in Casco Viejo speaks to a bright (expensive) future for the
historic area, so too the presence of cats speaks well for our future, however
short, in Panama. If the cats are sticking around, the Panamanians must be
doing something right.
