Panama City. Paitilla area. It's amazing how customs are able to adhere to your behavior to such a level that becomes a part of who you really are. In the afternoon, en route to my second job, I had take a taxi, a very normal action part of the routine of all the humble people of Panama who can not stand the excessive price of gasoline and seek in the absence of a taxi. However, I realized that regardless of who is about to get a year of living in these lands, the Venezuelan chip has not left me.
A feeling of complete uncertainty, entire blocks walked (which is minimal since this is a city of just 1,500,000 people) to get a taxi and suddenly I felt I could run the same risk as a Station Metro de Sabana Grande at 6:00 pm. Without realizing it was a state of complete distrust and decided to be alert to everything and everyone around me, not wanting a man ran out to me where I was, for a moment I was prepared for anything ... stick a hit, run, a string of sentences I came out of my mind, when in reality ... Mr. I had returned my phone, had left the restaurant table where he was.
Maybe this is simply nonsense happened is that as simple as it was this largest of its meaning: the existence of honesty, the permanent smile, the warmth is palpable ... but the shell of humanity manage your mind is trained to such a level that defense must be permanent, and the willingness to man always comes out with a kick (in all senses).
supposed honesty and friendliness should be as typical of the world, a moment of support, collaboration should be our daily bread and yet it is not ... we are here and here.
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