Two Days, Two Extremes
Most people spend their New Year’s Eve in Panama gathered around a family table or watching fireworks over Panama City’s skyline, but I ended up inadvertently experiencing two dramatic extremes. This 48-hour journey gave me the ultimate whiplash: starting with baby turtles on the shores of Punta Chame (a quiet peninsula which extends into the Pacific) at sunrise to the most raucous party with floats the size of buildings, fireworks that lasted an hour, marching bands, and opulence galore.
From the quiet of the surf to the peak of the party, Panama is all encompassing.
Part 1: The Stillness of Punta Chame
Dec 30, 2024 | 3:30 AM
Our trip started in the pitch black, at a time when I should have been dead asleep. We left Panama City in the early morning hours, driving to Punta Chame to see something magical. When there are no cars on roads that are always jam packed with traffic, it feels like a win. After a supremely bumpy road for the last 30 minutes of the drive down the peninsula we arrived. It was over two hours later, nearing 6:00 AM, but what we witnessed was worth the early start.
We walked in the darkness, using our phone flashlights as our guide. The sky was slowly brightening by the time we arrived at the sanctuary run by Fundación Tortuguías, a local nonprofit organization. By 6:25 AM, the baby turtles were all together in gray bins, ready to be released.
A huge shoutout to the volunteers of Fundación Tortuguías who are dedicated to protecting sea turtles. Seeing these tiny hatchlings go from the safety of their bins to their first trek in the Pacific was a huge highlight of all of my trips to Panama.
The volunteers tipped the bins and let the teeny turtles make their way toward the water on their own. There were just a handful of other onlookers; we all stood in total silence, listening to the sounds of the ocean, and watched as dozens of tiny, newly-hatched turtles made their first trek into the Pacific. It took only 4 minutes for the “speed demons” of the bunch to reach the water.
The Punta Chame Sea Turtle File
The Species: The turtles on this peninsula are mostly Olive Ridleys, which are currently listed as a vulnerable species.
The Vivero (Nursery): When volunteers find nests at night, they carefully relocate the eggs to an enclosed nursery to keep them safe from predators, poachers, and high tides until they hatch.
Peak Season: While nesting happens between July and January, December to February is the peak season to catch the morning hatchling releases like the one I attended.
How to Support: For a $15 donation, you can join a morning release with Fundación Tortuguías. Every dollar goes directly toward habitat protection and stopping illegal egg poaching.
It was a front-row seat to one of nature’s most delicate moments, but it ended up also being a reminder of how fragile life is. There was one hatchling that kept getting lost and couldn’t seem to navigate to the sea. The volunteer tried to correct it a number of times, but after 20 minutes of struggling, while all the other turtles were already living their new life in the ocean, this little one was still stuck. The volunteer eventually picked the baby up and found the problem: it had been born without eyes. It did get to the water eventually with a helping hand, but I felt pessimistic about its future.
This tiny hatchling was born without eyes, leaving it unable to find the ocean on its own.
By 8:30 AM, we were sitting at a roadside fonda (a local, cafeteria-style, affordable eatery), watching the cars on the highway pass by. Around us, a few men were eating their hojaldras (fried dough that, to me, tastes like a less sweet version of funnel cake) while a black and white cat wandered by on the floors of the open air restaurant.
The sunrise with the turtles and quiet fonda breakfast ended up being the calm before the storm. Because in Panama, the silence is just a setup for the spectacle that will inevitably follow.
Part 2: The Chaos of Las Tablas
Dec 31, 2024 | 11:30 PM
Fast forward a day and a half and my peaceful beachy bliss was a distant memory. To prepare for a long night, we took a nap in the evening, waking up after 9:00 PM. I mean, I’m usually in for the night by that time, pajamas on and book in hand. So, arriving at the celebration at 11:30 PM was definitely not my typical NYE. Yet, in Panama, the party was just beginning.
New Year’s in Las Tablas was an assault on the senses. When we arrived at the main plaza, we were greeted by the beautifully illuminated church of Iglesia Santa Librada. Around us, festive string lights mixed with the sound and scent of sizzling meats emanating from sidewalk carts. In the distance, I saw the glittering carrozas (massive parade floats) and heard the rhythmic sounds of the town’s competing calls.
The Warring Streets: Calle Arriba vs. Calle Abajo
Las Tablas is a town divided in place and in spirit; I think it’s all in fun, but I can’t be totally sure. There is a century-old rivalry that splits the community into two warring sides: Calle Arriba (The High Street) and Calle Abajo (The Low Street). Historically, this “war” began as a simple geographic divide marked by the church. But today, the conflict plays out as an all-out cultural contest where each side competes to determine which street reigns supreme.
Lyrical Warfare: The “Tonadas”
This was one of the first things I heard after arriving that night: a group of women belting out tonadas, the witty, taunting songs used to roast the other side. One singer mockingly shouted to the crowd and asked where their rivals had gone, as if they were too small to even be noticed. The reply was defiant and sarcastic, who said that they’d never dream of stepping foot on the “wrong” street.
Sometimes these chants even got ruthless, which was apparently never the tradition early on, but has evolved to be more brutal over time. Nowadays, each side loudly insults the rival Queen, mocking her dress, her family, her appearance, or something even harsher.
An Hour of Explosive Endurance
As midnight approached, I was shocked to find the staggering amount of pyrotechnics placed just behind a flimsy makeshift fence, mere steps away from us.
Each street had their own competing fireworks display which they set off simultaneously at midnight. It’s meant to be a test of endurance with a simple goal: outlast the other side and be the last street firing. That night, the fireworks literally lasted a full hour. I have never seen a display this long and probably never will again. And since they were basically set off right next to the crowd, I found myself wiping soot from my hair and thanking my silly 2025 glasses which (mostly) protected me eyes from the falling ash.
Only after 1:00 AM did the real party begin, when the music started blasting and the parade floats started moving.
The Float War
Another factor in the competition came in the form of the giant, hand-sculpted floats; they probably each rose two stories high and could have scraped the balconies of the surrounding colonial buildings. For hours, they moved slowly around the circular park. They were accompanied by mobile stages being towed by trucks, carrying a full brass band that played nonstop.
Each side had a signature color: electric purple and silver for Calle Arriba vs. neon green and gold for Calle Abajo. The goal was to design the more elaborate of the two sides, to have more moving parts, and generally to have opulence in excess.
The Competing Queens
At the heart of the chaos was the Reina (Queen). Perched at the top of her float, each remained unshakably regal while smiling and waving to the crowds below, even as they screamed profanities at her. Each year, the queen is essentially the face of Calle Arriba or Calle Abajo and she will wear the gown to prove it (if you can even call it that!).
Each Reina wore a massive architectural masterpiece known as an aparejo. It seemed like more of a bedazzled structural rig than a garment and must have weighed more than each woman. Reina Calle Arriba and Reina Calle Abajo both wore large headdresses and their whole ensembles were encrusted with thousands of Swarovski crystals; each outfit can cost upwards of $50,000! Since this night is such an important cultural event, the community saves up all year for this one night of prestige.
Rules of the Rivalry
The Money: These two neighborhoods spend hundreds of thousands of dollars every year on this night alone. From 24-karat gold leaf on the floats to professional-grade explosives and crystal bejeweled gowns for the queens, no expense is spared.
The Grudges: This is the “Eagles vs. Cowboys” (Go Birds!) of cultural stakes. Loyalties are inherited at birth, and switching sides would be seen as a total betrayal. Some families have even gone decades without speaking to their neighbors who live on the “wrong” street.
The Artistry: Even though they’re competing, there is a deep love for the craft. The floats are world-class masterpieces of art, the costumes extravagant, and the music is incredibly high energy.
The Lineage: Being a Queen isn’t a choice, it’s a multi-generational destiny passed down from mother to daughter.
Finding the Winner in the Madness
We left the square after 3:00 AM, with the party still going strong. The New Year’s celebration in Las Tablas is known to be a preview for Carnival. I figured that if NYE was just a warm up for the four-day February party that is filled with music and madness, I couldn’t imagine how chaotic, crowded, and fun that would be to attend. Maybe in 2027!
As an observer, it was a truly electric night of culture and celebration. To the locals, it seemed to be a serious matter of identity and pride. I’m not sure which side “won,” but to start 2025 with glitter in my hair and Panamanian music in my ears, it made me think that I might have been the big winner of the night.
Experiencing a Las Tablas New Year’s: What to Expect
The Timing: The official face-off begins on the morning of December 31st, but the real madness is a double-feature. The first spectacle erupts in the plazas just after midnight as January 1st begins. Then, after partying until dawn, the town pivots to the daytime culecos (massive water fight parties) on New Year’s Day.
The Epicenter: All action centers around Parque Porras Las Tablas and the surrounding downtown streets. Position yourself near the plaza if you want to be right in the crossfire of the rival tunas (Calle Arriba vs. Calle Abajo).
The Parking Hustle: Do not expect formal parking lots or easy street spots near the festival area. Instead, look for enterprising locals standing near driveways, closed businesses, or open backyards waving you in. For about $5 cash, they will let you park on their property and promise to watch the car while you’re at the party. It helps to communicate in Spanish. This is safer than leaving your car on a packed, chaotic side street where it might get sideswiped or pelted with fireworks.
The Vibe: This is not a passive, clean spectator event. While the massive cistern trucks (culecos) wait until New Year’s Day to blast the crowds with water cannons, New Year’s Eve night is a baptism of fire. The square becomes an absolute war zone of competing firework displays. Expect deafening music, blinding explosions, and to leave the plaza completely covered in a layer of fireworks ash. Wear clothes you don’t mind getting sooty, protect your eyes, and embrace the beautiful chaos.
Logistics: If you plan to stay overnight, book accommodations far in advance. Rooms in Las Tablas proper vanish quickly during major holidays; alternatively, we stayed in Guararé and had an easy commute.
New Year vs. Carnival: Los Carnavales is an international madhouse, while New Year’s is known as the preview to Canavales. The fierce rivalries, stunning queens, and community pride are fully on display, but the crowd is overwhelmingly Panamanian and far less suffocating.
The Verdict: If you’re looking for a polished, resort-style tourist event, stay in Panama City. But if you want a raw look at a town that knows exactly how to hold a grudge, fire a water cannon, and throw a world-class block party at the same time, this is it.
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