By Donald S. Kang Contributing Writer

There were about 300 Koreans in Panama - about 80 lived there permanently and the rest were Koreans working for Korean companies, such as Hyundai and Daewoo. The ambassador of Korea invited me and my sponsors to his residence for dinner on the first day of transiting the canal. He told us that the dictator Noriega, when faced with arrest by the invading U.S. army, had asked to stay over at the Korean embassy (they refused), and that there were serious crime problems that resulted from the forcible ouster of the general: many illicit weapons were sold and liberally distributed by ex-Noriega soldiers. That explained why there was at least three fully armed - with machine guns - security officers in front of the Korea Exchange Bank of Panama.

I was overwhelmed, as I was in other places, by the kindness and generosity of the Koreans in Panama. There were more dinners and more food and even though I felt I really didn’t deserve this treatment, I couldn’t refuse their kindness. The Koreans told me to be careful about street violence: "if someone points a gun at you, just give everything and don’t do anything heroic." Luckily, growing up in L.A. prepared me well, and Panama wasn’t that bad, as long as I stayed in the right neighborhood (rich) at the right time (daytime).

On the second day of the transit, my party went back to Gatun Lake and descended through several locks to finally return to the Pacific Ocean. It had taken me slightly over a year to cross the Indian, then the Atlantic Ocean. The boat was anchored in front of the Balboa Yacht Club and my sponsors all left within a few days. I was alone again. My sponsors wanted me to get to Hawaii, then to Korea as fast as possible, but then again, it was Mother Nature who would dictate my schedule, not me.

I ended up spending another month in Panama. Panama City, the capital, was only 10 minutes from the yacht club by taxi ($3 ride). It was very cosmopolitan, and with prices being so low, I could have spent a lot longer in Panama. In a way, it was a shame that Panama would be the only country in Latin America that I would be stopping by. Other sailors told me about the wonders and kindness of Costa Rica, Venezuela, and other countries. Some other time.

Beer was very cheap and that was good. The yacht club had ladies’ night Friday nights, and there were many attractive senoritas and American soldiers from the Southern Command trying to pick them up. The yacht club was more than a yacht club; it was a very popular local bar as well as a well known place to pick up women. Some senoritas took a keen interest in me (yachtie "chino" to them) and wanted to check out my boat and I gladly obliged, showing off my proud Forerunner 2; their reaction was less than thrilled: "small."

Brian decided he could take only so much beer and left in late July. As he departed for Hawaii, he said, "Get your butt moving." The anchorage was very rolly at Balboa, the rolliest I had experienced in port. Sometimes, when the southwesterlies blew, some boats would drag their moorings or anchors, ramming into other boats in the process, before ending up on the rocks. I waited for northerly winds, but either there was no wind or it was from the south. Brian just said, "Hell with this, I’m just going." I left two weeks after Brian did, with no wind and the motor running. As I saw Panama disappear over the northern horizon, I worried for its future.

The canal would be handed over to Panama in 1999, and already, there were doomsayers who thought the Panamanians were too corrupt to run the canal efficiently. They predicted that transit fees would be hiked significantly, while the quality of service would suffer. Even some Panamanians had less faith in their politicians than they did in "gringos." But because the canal plays such a significant role in world commerce, if Panamanians were to put the canal at risk or simply not be able to run its operation, then the Americans would show no hesitation at coming back. No matter how much they hated the fact, Panamanians realized that Americans had played a major role in their country, going back to the inception of the canal (Americans built it) to the overthrow of Noriega.

Corruption was openly displayed in Panama. While driving in a rented car in Panama City, I got ripped off by a corrupt traffic cop, who demanded that I pay him $20 for not having my seat belt on. When I asked for a ticket, he lowered his price, and finally, we settled the "bribe" at $5.

Then there was the customs official at the yacht club who demanded that I pay him $40 for "easy" paperwork to clear out of the country. When I said that I wanted to go through the proper channels to clear out, he explained that I had to pay $80 to the "proper" people and that the process would take all day. So I acquiesced. His reason, he said, for demanding outright gifts and money was that on $150 a month, he simply couldn’t survive.

The gap between the have and have-nots was extreme in Panama. But I found the people to be kind and optimistic about the future. I sincerely hoped, as I looked northward to the horizon, that the Panamanians would be able to run the soon-to-be their canal proficiently, without "gifts" and other corrupt practices, and become, as one official guide put it, the "Singapore of the Americas."