A DREAM COME TRUE.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 138, 12 June 1926, Page 23

A DREAM COME TRUE.

AN INTERLUDE ON THE WAY. XHS INTEREST OF THE CANAL. (By PILGRIM.) IV. They tell you that the Panama route is diiii. Judged by stopping places it is. You may not" call at Pitcairn, and if you are not an oil ship you do not stop at Curacao. That leaves only Panama, and your ship may so strike the Canal that yon go ashore at only one place. If, as js planned, larger ships are put on to this vini, it may be necessary, in order tn attract sufficient patronage, to include another call. That, however, might interfere with the time programme, which aims at landing the passengers in England i" ">0 days. Panama, however, is most interesting, especially to those who see it for the first time. The Canal is now more than Id years old, and the world hag ceased to "marvel at it, but that is no reason why the traveller should not be deeply impressed by this magnificent achievement of the Americans. Here the observant voyager sees, as in the vastnesa of the ocean, something that no home study of geography can teach him fully. It is a huge object lesson, with continents and oceans as the teacher's material. Then there are the Canal settlements, fascinating to the traveller who is going abroad for the first time, as the lirst experience of foreign countries. We were fortunate enough to reach the Pacific end of' the Canal in the late afternoon, which gave us the evening ashore at Balboa and Panama, and while the ship was coaling at the other end next afternoon, we had a glimpse of Colon and Christobal. It was a happy company that streamed from the ship that evening at Balboa, a crowd of schoolboys off for a holiday, to most of whom the adventure had all the excitement of complete novelty. A taxi rolled us over perfect roads through the American settlement, with its dignified public buildings and rows of bungalowed residences, all saying "Efficiency," "Efficiency." Then suddenly the scene changed, and we were in the middle of a foreign city that was not Anglo-Saxon, a city of narrow streets and mixed dark population, of palm trees and "spicy garlic smells," of strange speech and sights. Not that the smells were offensive; the Americans, so a guide-book informed us, have "sanitated" Panama. It was like going into a theatre, and like being a child again and seeing one's first play; how romantic it all seemed then! The city was fully alive. Some of the passengers lamented that they did not see the place in the daytime, but they were fortunate in that they saw it at its time of greatest vitality. Some visitors go there in the afternoon and complain, when they return to the ship, that the town is dead, The fact is that the inhabitants like to take a siesta in the afternoon, and it is in the evening that they wake up and enjoy life. The streets are crowded, and the shops keep open until two in the morning. By the way, I am not sure whether these people should be called Panamese or Panamanians, In the ship ping world, I am told, they are known as the "Spikkadese," because when they cannot or do not want to understand you they say, "No apikka da English." Many a New Zealander who finds himself in a foreign country must be struck by the smallness and insignificance of his own land. So long as he is at home he finds it difficult to realise that there are millions of people abroad who do not even know that there is such a place. Set down in the middle of Panama, and watching crowds of alien people pass by, the New Zealander feels that, like his country, he is an atom in a great world. Probably some of these passers-by know there is a place called New Zealand; they would know this from the liners that call. Here, however, is a community that, we may be sure, has never heard of Sir James Parr, or the Otira Tunnel, or Mr. Holland, or the All Blacks— surely a solemn thought. All this is a wholesome corrective to national selfimportance cultivated in isolation. This, however, is a mood that soon passes. Interest in this new world is the predominant fact. Also the sense of humour is apt to take charge. Things are funny because they are strange. It is funny, for example, to see men being shaved in public; funny to see phaeton-like cabs drawn by single horses not much bigger than calves; funny to be tangled in the intricacies of American money, and to solve the difficulty by holding out a handful to the lady at the V.M.C.A. bar and asking her to take the right coin. We felt for the American sailors who in New Zealand ports were begogged by our two shilling and half-crown pieces.

The horse cab was the funniest experience. The driver was an Italian, and by a strange concidence, a "Punch" reached us next day with a picture of an Italian proprietor of a similar vehicle being engaged by a nervous English tourist. " 'Aye no fear, Signora, Vittorio 'c no maka da gallopa." Our Vittorio also showed no disposition to "maka da gallopa." Indeed the five of us felt conscience stricken at setting the little thing the task of pulling us, and two of us, out of pity, stepped off easily as the cab went up hill. I fear the laughter that possessed us did not impress the inhabitants favourably. It was mostly the padre's fault. He sat up beside the driver and conversed with him in elementary French and Italian, throwing explanatory remarks to us over his shoulder. The driver seemed to see none of the humour in the situation. "Cheval blanc," said the padre, indicating the horse. "Non," replied the driver, like a teacher in a secondary school; "cheval blanche." He even seemed to be quite touched by the Italian expression "Dolce far niente," being possibly surprised that so inarticulate a person as an Englishman should know ?n much of a foreign tongue. We wished him. "grazia" most politely when we descended, the padre adding "signor"— being the best scholar of the party—and we sought a V.M.C.A. refreshment room to appease our tropical thirst and check our laughter. There we had iced drinks and delicious sliced bananas, served with an indigestible largesse of ice cream in long silver platters. After that we wandered down to the ship, and passing an American church, stopped to listen to an orchestra that was practising inside. It gave us a Chopin nocturne and a Mendelssohn song without words. Travel is full of surprises.

The Canal has been written about so often that I do not propose to describe either the locks or the Gatun Dam. The whole great work is enormously interesting, a huge monument of engineering efficiency. Tbe most fascinating thing about its working is the entire absence of fuss. The big ship was pulled into the locks and raised and lowered quickly, smoothly, and quietly. There was no shouting, no rushing about of men. The handful of employees on the lock side seemed to stroll about their jobs, and one could almost imagine them.

saying; "_y jove, hole's, a amp, we put her through, what:" Au umti = were heard; everybody knew exactly what to do and did it without bustle aua noise, but quickly and efficiently.' The impression of silent efficiency is produced largely by the fact that except for the electric "mules"' that take the .hip through the locks, the machinery of Lhir huge system is invisible and silent, iiu gates open and'shut without a sound, and there is nothing to show how they are worked. One passenger said he feu sorry for the French, whose part in th. Canal enterprise is in danger of being forgotten. Their chapter in the Canal's history is a tragic record of financial corruption and disease, but they had the vision and they did a good deal oi" the work. As it was, the loss of life was terrible; had they gone on and finished the job, it would have been appalling. Fortunately by the time the American? took it in hand the means of preventing yellow fever had been found. On Unship we had an old sailor who remembered the Panama region at its worst. He had visited Colon in a sailing ship and seen fever strike down every man in the ship except himself. The "contrast between this experience and the healthiness of the Canal zone to-day is, like the Canal itself, a splendid "monument to the American people. We had a few hours at CristobalColon and added to our experience o:' foreign lands. For example, an extra plate of one kind of cake at afternoon tea cost us a dollar, which was a reminder that all tea rooms are not as cheap as those in New Zealand. However, the laugh that followed on thkdiscovery was almost worth the dollar.

Next morning we were in the Caribbean sea and the Atlantic, with memories of the Spanish Main crowding on us, and the ship's head pointed for England. This was Drake's sea—"slun_ between the round shot in Nombre lib - Bay. an' rlreamin' arl the time of Plymouth Hoe." The engines seemed to beat the time as we swunj; away northwards towards his home and the home of us all.