I'm Back!

A good time was had by all, I trust? 

Panama was beautiful. I usually head down to a little island near Panama City, one of those strange little tidal pools where history occasionally washes up, then drains away again. Leaving behind fossilized evidence of significance. 

If you are reading Slumrat Rising, there is a decent chance you are familiar with the genre known as Magical Realism. Most famously written by Garcia Marquez, he posited that you can't really write it outside a latin american context, because the surreal reality of everything is a product of the post-colonial trauma those countries endured, and continued to endure. 

The island archepeligo I visited had been settled for more than six thousand years. All the original inhabitants were exterminated by the Spanish, who then repopulated the island with slaves to work as pearl divers. Then... well, then you had the history of Panama, which is a colonialism case study par-excellence. 

Why mention all this? Because for me, that strange alienation between what manifestly is, and  what logically should be, gives everything a faint sense of unreality. The municipal water pump blew up for the third time this year. Yes, this calendar year. Three times in less than two months. But it's normal. There is an excellent healthcare system, and the person manning the front desk at the Island clinic records your information via pen and literal logbook. Meanwhile, if you go into the Capital, you can visit world class hospitals operating as an extension of Johns Hopikins. 

It's all strange, but it's normal. Vast surreal skyscrapers going up next to brutal ghettos. Strange, strange, but normal. Pervasive racisim and colorism amongst the locals. You can see it clear as can be- who has what jobs, who is working in the summer sun and who is working in an air conditioned hotel lobby. Strange, but normal. 

These things exist everywhere, of course. It's just that when I'm pulled out of my usual environment, I see them much more clearly and starkly. Taking a van from Toucaman International to the former US Airforce Base Allbrook, you drive through layers of history, commerce, culture, and yes, trauma. That sense of alienation, that this grinding reality cannot be really real, is inescapable. 

A view the people in the slums would no doubt find "fascinating." I imagine it all seems plenty real to them.

So if you wanted a real world example of what Truth experiences regularly, this is one of 'em. Visit Panama and really try to understand what it is that you are seeing. Then hang on, because the vertigo is no joke. 

Like any good traveling Anglo, I did consult with local tax attorneys while I was there:

If it's good enough for Jimmy Carr, right?

But damn, Panama is beautiful. For all the wierd, alienated stuff I said before, it really, really is beautiful.

Read some books, thought many thoughts, cooked food of varying degrees of edibility, and am generally ready to hit the ground running once again. March is going to be kind of nuts. As a special thank you for those who actually read to the end of the newsletter, I can tease a special benefit will becoming for my current subscribers. But SHHH! Nothing will be announced until March. But it's a good 'un.