Some of it justified, some of it not.

In the opinion of your humble author, I disagree with the hatred this city gets.

Panama City, Panama (PTY) has a lot to offer — and I’m not just referring to the easy residency and territorial taxes.

Now, of course, I could be a bit biased here.

Why?

Because in 2014, when I first left the USA in search of adventure and degeneracy, Panama was my first stop.

It was eye-opening, to say the least.

That trip truly changed me. Fast-forward over a decade and…

After my neighbor showed up to my front door with a gun in Mexico, I quickly moved my family to Panama a few months back. And to be honest, we’re enjoying the hell out of PTY right now.

Here’s why…

🇵🇦 Panama City, Panama 🇵🇦

Population:

In 2026, Panama City's metro area population is roughly 2.1 million by most estimates.

This is nearly half of Panama's total population of approximately 4.3 million.

Weather:

If you do NOT like the heat, Panama City is not going to be the place for you.

PTY offers a classic tropical climate — hot and humid year-round with temps hovering around 75–90°F.

I sweat through my shirt anytime I’m outside for more than 5 minutes from 9:00AM to 7:00PM.

However, mornings and evenings are pleasant enough.

Rainy season runs from roughly May to November (daily afternoon downpours) and a dry season from December to April that locals call "verano” — but just means it only rains a few times a week.

Even in the dry season, humidity stays high.

Why Visit Panama City, Panama?

For what it is and what it does well, Panama City is a solid place.

It's the most cosmopolitan city in Central America, with a significant expat and international business community. In many ways, it's a legit global city.

The Casco Viejo old town is gorgeous, with rooftop bars overlooking the Pacific, restored colonial architecture, and nightlife that draws an international crowd.

The infrastructure is surprisingly modern. There’s a metro system (the only one in Central America), the highways are nice, Uber works seamlessly, and the robust banking sector means you’ll find services here you won’t get in other LatAm cities of similar size.

English is widely spoken, especially in business and expat circles, which lowers the friction for those who don’t speak Spanish just yet.

Geographically, it’s a hub. You’re a short flight from Colombia, Costa Rica, or Venezuela — and you have direct flights to most major U.S. cities.

One could argue PTY has the best international airport in Latin America — although CDMX and Bogota can compete.

The tax structure is a major draw:

Panama operates on a territorial tax system, meaning foreign-sourced income isn’t taxed.

Pair that with accessible residency options, like the Friendly Nations Visa, the Pensionado program (one of the best retiree visas in the world), and various investment-based pathways — then you start to see why so many entrepreneurs and remote workers are planting flags here.

More on that below…

The downsides?

Traffic is brutal, the humidity will test you, and the neighborhoods outside the tourist corridors can feel rough.

Oh, and if you’re comparing Panama City, Panama to places like Rio de Janeiro or maybe Bueno Aires — yeah, it’s going to fall short.

If you need a legit global city with real tax advantages, easy residency, and genuine connectivity — Panama City belongs on your short list.

How to Get to Panama

Panama City’s Tocumen International Airport is one of the best-connected hubs in all of Latin America, thanks largely to Copa Airlines being based here.

This is a massive advantage.

Copa runs direct flights to over 90+ cities across the Americas and Europe, making Panama City a natural crossroads.

For US-based readers, direct flights are available from dozens of cities, including:

• Miami

• Houston

• Dallas

• New York

• Los Angeles

• Orlando

• Denver

• Chicago

• Las Vegas

It’s one of the easiest LatAm capitals to reach from almost anywhere in the States. European connections have skyrocketed lately, as well, with directs to Madrid, Paris, Amsterdam, and more.

Where Panama really shines is regional connectivity…

Need to pop over to Colombia, Costa Rica, or Mexico City? You’re looking at short, cheap flights — many under two hours. It’s truly “the hub of the Americas” in many ways.

Full breakdown here.

Best Neighborhoods in Panama 🇵🇦

So this is where things get tricky in Panama…

There’s not that one perfect neighborhood in PTY, one that has everything and can work for all types.

It simply does not exist.

That being said, there are a bunch of solid neighborhoods in Panama City — each with their own specific use-cases, benefits, and downsides.

Here’s a few of my favorites:

Costa del Este

Who is Costa del Este for? — Families

Arguably the nicest overall neighborhood in the country of Panama, Costa del Este has pleasantly surprised me.

It’s clean, organized, and safe.

You’ve got a major hospital, a decent sized mall, tons of restaurants, multiple pre-schools, a couple international private schools, grocery stores, and close by there’s even a “Panamanian Costco” — aka PriceSmart.

There’s the Malecon Costa Del Este, which is a fantastic place to walk in the morning. Hell, even the sidewalks are wide enough to push a stroller. Rare in LatAm cities.

Dozens of multinational companies have their Latin America headquarters in this neighborhood, so you’ll see and meet people from all over the world living here — especially from Asia.

P.S: For gated community or resort-style living, the best place in Panama City is Santa Maria — which is next to Costa del Este.

Casco Viejo

Who is Casco Viejo for? — Nightlife + Tourism

Casco Viejo is probably the most well-known neighborhood in the country.

Think of it as Panama’s version of Cartagena’s walled city or Havana’s Old Havana — colonial architecture, narrow streets, plazas, old churches, and of course — scammers.

While the neighborhood is one of the city’s trendiest areas, packed with rooftop bars, boutique hotels, and restaurants — you’ll still see crumbling buildings next to fully restored ones.

Charming in it’s own way.

It’s where most of the nightlife is concentrated, and the views of the modern skyline across the bay are insane.

If you’re coming to Panama solo-dolo on a short trip, less than two weeks, it’s an option and easily the most touristic part of the city. If you just want to party all day and night while in the country, this would be the spot.

But for long-term living, the neighborhood lacks many things an expat needs to survive day-to-day.

El Cangrejo — Via Argentina

Who is El Cangrejo for? — Budget Travelers

Make no mistake about…

Panama City is not exactly cheap — more on that below.

So if you’re looking to spend some time here while keeping costs low, the options are fairly thin.

El Cangrejo is easily my favorite budget-friendly neighborhood in PTY, specifically around Via Argentina.

Here’s why…

Most neighborhoods in Panama are not remotely walkable. Costa del Este and Casco Viejo are — but outside of that, the pickings are slim.

Via Argentina is the most walkable neighborhood in Panama for the single broski on a budget. You can walk to gyms, a nice park, dozens of restaurants and bars, supermarkets, etc. And Via Argentina is a pleasant street for a stroll — safe, international vibes, and middle-class.

Oh, and it’s right next to a major university here in Panama. Ya tu sabes.

Cinta Costera — Bella Vista, Marbella, Punta Paitilla, Punta Pacifica

Who is the Cinta Costera for? — Errr, It’s the Heart of the City

Over the years, the areas around Cinta Costera like Bella Vista, Marbella, Punta Paitilla, and Punta Pacifica — have been some of the neighborhoods most popular with travelers and expats alike.

There’s endless options of high-rise apartments to choose from here. No lack of inventory in this area.

You can walk along the Cinta Costera and enjoy the ocean breeze. You’re close to the best mall in Central America — Multiplaza Panama. There’s some parks, a couple marinas for yachts, and some decent restaurants.

This area is smack-dab in the middle of the whole PTY metro area, so it’s convenient in many ways too.

That being said…

I’m not a huge fan. I’ve lived in this area for months on end. It gets boring really fast. There’s a few places to walk, but you’re going to be in an Uber a lot here.

Where to Stay in Panama City, Panama?

Pick your poison from the neighborhoods listed above and go from there.

But before all that, you need to know a few things about renting in Panama and how things work here.

1. Airbnb options are very limited in Panama City

Read more

I was a “spring chicken" in many respects. Fresh-off-the-boat and looking for adventure around every turn. Well, adventure, degeneracy, and make amor latinas.

I was also traveling alone.

My best friend had joined me for a few days on the trip, but I was now in the big city of Panama City alone for the next month.

Rolling solo…

Without the ability to speak much Spanish — and with zero contacts in the city outside of some girls I had “pipelined” prior to arriving.

I was doing some research about “things to do in Panama City” one fine afternoon — sitting in my shitty shoebox studio apartment, which was about the size of a bathroom at a nightclub — and I stumbled upon a blog about Panama.

The author was a young American guy who seemed quite normal.

I immediately emailed him with a few questions and a random invitation to party sometime if he was around.

This was before social media took off, so email was the best way to get in touch with people.

He quickly responded by offering to show me around the city that Saturday night with a few of his friends.

I quickly accepted the invite.

First Fiesta

We met up at a rooftop bar in Casco Viejo one evening for some drinks.

The blogger was there with a few friends and a couple girls.

We started drinking, chatting, and having a good time. Everyone spoke good English, these were clearly upper-class Panamanians.

They asked me a number of questions and were super friendly. This was at a time when there weren’t that many gringos rolling around in LatAm. People were still curious about foreigners in their country.

I didn’t think twice about everyone being so curious about me.

One of the bros worked for the UN, another had a family who was a big name in the shipping industry in Panama.

Everyone was cool and friendly.

I started attempting to work my magic on one of the upper-class girls sitting at the table after I realized she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend – and no one cared whatsoever. 

It starts to get a bit later and the group decides to go to a club next door.

We pay the bill and walk outside.

Which is when I realize what’s actually going on…

The blogger bro from the USA starts holding hands with one of the Panamanian guys.

My jaw dropped. The blogger bro noticed and laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t know if you knew, but we’re all gay except for one of the guys and the girls!”

I let out a meak laugh…

“Ohhhhh! I hadn’t a clue. To be honest, you guys didn’t seem gay at all.”

He laughs, “Yeah, we try NOT to be those type of gays.”

Me: “Had me fooled! No worries. Y’alls orientation doesn’t bother me a bit.”

He laughs again, “Yeah, we knew you weren’t gay. But our female friends are always asking us to bring straight guys around and you seemed cool.”

We hit the club and partied the night away. 

The guys end up being super cool and chill overall. Just bros who happened to have a different persuasion. 

And they had tons of female friends around at all times!

Which was ideal for me.

Seemingly Normal

I had a great time out with this group of gay bros and their female friends that night.

They seemed to enjoy having a normal young gringo around and started inviting me to events and parties every weekend.

Each time filled with at least a few single upper-class girls.

It was ideal if I’m being honest.

One party they had like 30+ people over to their penthouse high-rise.

It was a splendid time and I met up with some other travelers, including a few straight white-male travelers.

I ended up making friends with a German backpacker named Tony.

He was the prototypical broke backpacker – living on $10-20 USD per day.

But he was a friendly chap and had been to like 40+ countries over the past few years. He had some great travel tales and was telling me all about Thailand and Brazil.

I start hanging out with Tony doing some tourism tings’ during the week in Panama City. We’d go to parties with this group of Panamanians each weekend.

I was casually dating a few local girls too. 

Life was good.

One weekend the group goes to some islands near the city. I declined, as I didn’t want to spend a weekend away from some of the girls I’m seeing.

Tony decides to go.

It Gets Weird

The weekend after the group goes to the islands, I’m drunk as hell at a casino with one of the girls I’m seeing — a very nice girl who ended up taking a 12-hour bus to come see me in Costa Rica.

One of the gay Panamanian bros messages me to see if I’m out and about. I tell him to come by the casino and gamble with us.

He comes through an hour or so later, also drunk out of his mind.

Now, this bro had world-class social skills as an upper-class Latino. Even though he was gay, he was exceptionally charming with the girls.

My girl and him are cracking up, having a great old time — while I’m gambling and drinking.

They’re talking in Spanish, but I make out something about my penis in the conversation.

Odd.

Next thing I know, the gay bro slides over to me and starts telling me about the trip to the islands.

Which was interesting until he goes…

“Jake, I know you’re not gay. But you don’t think you’re gay. You might be bi-sexual”

Ummm…

THE FUCK?!

Him: “I was on the islands with Tony and he claimed to not be gay. So I told him to prove it. Let me suck your dick. If you don’t get hard, you aren’t gay.”

Shit was getting weird.

He keeps going: “I sucked his dick for a few minutes and he was definitely NOT gay. Do you want to find out if you’re NOT gay?!”

I look at the girl I was with. My face had a look of disgust on it — mixed with violence. Like I might curb-stomp this guy right in the casino.

The girl barges in before anything happens…

“Let’s go back to your apartment, Jake. I can see you’re tired.”

I look at the gay bro and agree to leave with her before I got more upset.

I turn to the gay bro: “Uhhh, no thanks, bro. Quite confident I’m not gay. We’re going to call it a night”

He looked sad, but we shake hands and I roll out with the girl.

P.S: After returning to Panama City years later, I quickly concluded the country attracts some “odd” foreigners.

Backpackers are Weird as Hell

The next morning, I wrote to Tony the backpacker about the situation and asked if it was true…

It was.

I was disgusted by Tony.

I had no issues hanging out with the gay bros, going to parties, and all that jazz. They were pretty normal bros.

But that was crossing a line.

A very fine line I wasn’t going to cross.

I made a mental note that backpacking just wasn’t for me and I needed to meet *normal* travel bros.

And by normal, I meant red-blooded straight males who exclusively liked women and would not let another man suck their limp dick.

I also stopped staying in hostels shortly thereafter.

I was enjoying the fruits of my bull-market labors in the lovely cosmopolitan city of PTY.

After a big night out with a handful of homies and a group of locals, we all ventured back to my Panamanian fren’s house.

Music was blaring.

Drinks were flowing.

Weed filled the air.

Party favors exchanged.

Now, on occasion, I enjoy a bit of the local custom and partake in a few party favors myself.

So as I am waiting my turn, I notice an older lady straight murking the product. I make a comment to my buddy as we wait:

“Yooo! This abuela is murdering the ‘cosas’ right now. Are you seeing this?!”

He laughs.

Finally, she hands the cosas to others and makes her way into back to the party. I didn’t think twice of it.

Fast-Forward

An hour or so later…

I run into the old-bat at the party.

She’s higher than a kite and for some reason, decides it’s a good idea to tell me and my buddy her life story — after we make a joke about her ability to consume copious amounts of cosas at once.

First, she proceeds to tell us why she’s in Panama:

“Yeah, I work for an intergovernmental organization, the [rhymes with '“true sin” if you catch my drift]. I’ve been here for nearly 20 years. I’m one of the heads of the office here.”

We chat for a bit about that and how Panama has changed, then she proceeds to dig deeper into her life story:

“Yeah, it used to be so much better here. Everything was cheaper, the drugs used to be so cheap. That’s why I developed a problem.”

You don’t say ;)

I had no clue after watching you rip lines thicker than tubes of chapstick for five straight minutes.

She continues:

“Yeah, it got pretty bad. I’ve got it under control now.”

My face when she said she had her addiction “under control” now…

She’s taking no social cues now due to being higher than a kite, as my friend and I are looking at her like she’s crazy.

She just keeps going…

“Yeah, there was 2-3 years here in Panama where I was, well, sucking dick for this stuff. My salary wasn’t covering my addiction and I was using everyday.”

I couldn’t walk away.

I looked at my buddy and we started rolling with laughter. She could care less and just kept talking.

It started to get dark shortly thereafter.

I mean “darker” I guess. Pretty dark already — because you know…

Sucking dick for drugs while working for an organization that’s mission is to:

“Maintain international peace and security, develop friendly relations among nations…blah, blah, blah”

That’s already pretty dark.

But when you throw on having a pimp who beats you…

Well, enough is enough.

You catch my drift. She was a scumbag who also wanted you to think she was high and mighty because she worked for you know who.

Alas…

My opinion of that organization couldn’t be any lower, and I think Haitians would agree with me.

Panama is paradise, especially when strictly looking at Latin America.

The place is beyond safe, stunningly beautiful, and features first-world amenities in every imaginable way.

Plus, the country is one of the best in the world for yachting and sailing — with over 1,400+ islands dotting the country’s coastline.

Not only that…

I’d been to Panama City before too.

In 20214, I spent some time in PTY. It was wonderful back then.

I also checked out the San Blas Islands and Bocas del Toro while in the country on that trip. Both stunningly beautiful.

Even met a nice Panamanian girl who traveled with me to Costa Rica for a bit.

So when I decided to head back to PTY during the “China-virus” days…

I had high hopes.

World-class apartments, modern amenities, safety, and a budding crypto scene — was the expectation.

What did I find?

A country hyper-obsessed with a little virus, that wasn’t actually affecting Panama that much.

Dumb.

And by hyper-obsessed, I truly mean it. These people were “off-their-rockers” in love and obsessed with the ‘rona.

But don’t just take my word, let’s look at a few stories that illustrate how asinine Panamanians were about Covid…

Panama’s Most Wanted Gringo

I looked down at my phone…

The administrator of the building had been writing me feverishly on WhatsApp, even sending me a photo.

I opened up my phone to check what was up, only to see this:

A photo of me standing alone in an elevator?

Ok…

What was the issue?

I WAS NOT WEARING A MASK.

The horror!

See, what had happened was…

Some liberal Latino had asked me where my mask was when I got in the elevator.

I shrugged at him.

I had just woken up and hadn’t even had my morning coffee yet. Barely half-awake.

He then tried to raise his voice and demand I wear a mask or get off the elevator.

I gave him a stern look and said: “Hell no!”

The look on his face was priceless. I shit you not he looked like he was about to cry as I held eye contact with him.

His eyes quickly darted to the floor and his body language went from all “puffed up” and aggressive to as meek as humanly possible.

What a bitch.

He then went directly to the administrator’s office and complained about me.

What a bitch.

Now, I had already blocked the building admin for nagging me about masks previously.

She was writing me on a second phone number, her personal number. Writing me demanding I wear a mask, as the police were already on the way, and she had “proof” of me living a mask-less life.

Or whatever.

In the eyes of this “CNN En Espanol” watching building administrator in Panama, I was:

Panama’s Most Wanted Gringo

I laughed while responding to the photo she sent me, which she did not appreciate.

She responded saying I needed to move out of the building if I was not able to abide by the rules and that the next time she saw me without a mask she would call the police again.

LOL.

Then the owner of the apartment wrote me saying he would be forced to cancel the lease if I couldn’t wear a mask in the building.

I said I’m not going to wear a mask.

So the lease was effectively broken.

I was “kicked out” of my apartment in Panama because I wasn’t wearing a mask in the elevator — in 2022.

Not peak-Covid 2020 — or even 2021.

I started packing my things and moved to a Marriott Residences Inn down the street — where no one bothered me about a mask for the three-weeks I was there.

But I did lose $1,800 USD in the deposit.

The dickhead owner of the apartment tried to claim I owed him another $1,800 for breaking the lease. I read the contract and told him that’s not true. He threatened to sue me. I told him good luck. Panamanians ;(

Do NOT stay at Allure at the Park.

More ‘Rona Idiocracy in PTY

In the first building I stayed at in Panama, they also loved the virus.

Especially the subhuman species that was the gym attendant at the building.

See…

I always worn one of those “Buff” face mask things that fisherman and some hikers wear.

This made it super easy to pull the mask down while actually doing my sets in the gym. Then catch my breath and pull it back up.

The gym attendant caught me doing this and walked over:

“You have to wear a normal blue face mask. What you’re wearing doesn’t work.”

I looked at her like she was crazy:

“No, thanks. I’m good with this. There’s no difference.”

She went crazy and started screaming at me. I just looked at her and then went back to my workout.

Five-minutes later, the security guard with his gun rolled up to the gym:

“Hey, you have to listen to her. She is in charge here. You have to wear a blue mask.”

I started laughing at him:

“Ummmm, so you’re telling me you truly think there’s a difference? Between what this masks does and the blue one you can buy for $0.50 at the pharmacy?”

He didn’t reply and walked away.

The building administrator at this place called me later that day:

“Hey Jake, if you cannot wear a blue mask like the gym attendant asked, you won’t be able to use the gym here anymore.”

Me: “Cool, I’ll be moving out soon. The people working here are too stupid to live here any longer.”

And I hung up.

Do NOT stay at YOO Panama.

Power-Tripping Panamanian Cops

Another time…

I was walking at the park, about to go back to my apartment. I had some groceries in one hand and was waiting to cross the street at a stoplight.

A cop pulled up next to me. He starts motioning to put on a mask.

I shrug my shoulders at him.

He pulls down his helmet cover and starts yelling:

“You’ve got to put on a mask!”

I’m thinking…

“Fuck! Do I really want to get fined for this? Should I just put it on?”

I decide not.

So I slowly start acting like I’m going through my pockets looking for a mask. As slow as I possibly can.

10 second go by.

15 seconds go by

20 seconds go by.

I still haven’t “found” my mask, as the cop is staring on intently.

The light turns green, he’s still waiting for me to put on a mask. The cars behind him all start honking, pissed off he is holding up traffic.

He gives me one last look and then speeds off.

Fuck the Panamanian police.

“High-IQ” Taxi Drivers

I’m visiting Bocas del Toro, as stunning beach town in northern Panama, with a group of friends.

We’ve got six people with us, so we have to call a larger taxi van every time we want to go to dinner from the hotel.

Not a big deal.

We call one, wait a few minutes, and then hop in upon arrival.

We did this one afternoon.

Driver showed up, we hop in, driver cruises off.

About a minute into the ride, he notices no one in the car is wearing a mask.

He begins to freak out, “Hey, you guys all have to put masks on! It’s the law.”

Me: “Uhhh, we don’t have any with us. Don’t worry. We will give you a good tip.”

Him: “No, it’s the law! I will get fined $50 by the cops if they see me driving you.”

Which was a load of bullshit, as we had taken 10+ taxis in Bocas by this point and no other taxi seemed to care.

Me: “Ok, no worries. If we get pulled over, we will pay the cops. Just drive.”

He slams on the breaks: “Get out!”

Me: “On the side of the road in the middle of nowhere?”

Him: “Get out!”

Our whole group starts laughing at him…

As we all exit, it’s a choir of:

“Fuck you! You’re an idiot!”

He was pissed and sped off.

Everyone in our group except one guy left Panama the following week — with little desire to come back.

Rude and indoctrinated by the government is no way to go through life — yet was the de-facto mode for the majority of locals in Panama.

It was my first day in the Latin America concrete jungle and like a typical bro, I went on a search to find a gym.

With limited Spanish, this proved to be no small task.

I spent what constituted a majority of my afternoon roaming the streets, taking taxis, and speaking broken “Spanglish” to people who were not amused with my inability to communicate properly.

After what felt like an eternity, I was able to figure out where three different gyms were located within a 20-minute walk of my apartment.

I decided to check out what was seemingly the nicest one first. 

As I walked into the modern gym in the middle of the concrete jungle, I immediately noticed the striking similarities to all the upscale gyms in the United States. A supplement shop, yoga studio, cross-fit area, and brand new weights created a vibe of familiarity for me. I wanted to join immediately.

But, the upscale gym was expensive. And I was broke.

After being told the gym would cost $165 for five weeks, I attempted to haggle in “Spanglish” to no avail.

But for my efforts, I was granted a guest pass for the day.

After a great lift at the upscale gym, I grabbed a protein shake and continued my search. As I wouldn’t be joining the fancy gym.

The only other two options I had found were a ghetto gym under a parking garage that was a three-minute walk from my place and the local university fitness center.

The Land of Ass…Steroids

I decided to try the ghetto gym first.

The university was a 20-minute walk from my place and while most likely nicer than the ghetto parking garage gym, a three-minute walk sounded preferable.

As I strolled into the ghetto gym that evening, the large concrete box was packed with at least 100+ people.

Not a window in site, but the gym was filled to the brim with jacked gym bros and slim-thicc gym bunnies.

As I made my way to the front desk, I could feel eyes staring at me from all angles.

People were “mean mugging” me. The lowly gringo in the spot.

My adrenaline skyrocketed.

I’m fresh off the boat. Barely can utter a few words in Spanish. Probably one of the smaller dudes in the gym, and nobody seems overly friendly here.

But the gym had everything I would need to stay in shape.

As I got to the front desk and began speaking to the owner to get my membership sorted out, I started to relax. The owner was a friendly man with a calm disposition.

After signing up for the month, I attempted to find out if mornings were a bit slower.

The owner said yes and I headed out of the concrete box back into the concrete jungle.

GOT DAMN!

The next morning while struggling through a solid hangover, I made my way to the parking garage gym.

Arriving around 10:30 in the morning, there may have been 20 people working out. It was perfect. I signed in while making brief small talk with the owner. Then I got to work.

Foam rolling followed by a bit of jumping rope before hitting the squat rack. I was on my fourth set of squats when I caught a glimpse of ass in the mirror.

I made a quick note of said ass and continued my set. After racking the bar, I turned around and my eyes quickly darted to that ass, but this was not a normal ass…

I am not sure how to describe said ass with words. My jaw immediately dropped to the floor. I couldn’t look away. The girl with said ass knew of her asset and was wearing a pair of yoga pants with the crazy “latina-style” designs on them.

The ones that highlight the ass perfectly while creating a puzzle that confuses on-looking perverts like me into staring for an inordinate amount of time.

The guy working out next to me noticed my amazement and started laughing. He mumbled something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, but I’m sure it was quite hornt.

I finally was able to reconcile my thoughts and get back to my workout. I wrapped up squats and begin to hit pull ups hard, when I saw a group of women walk in and greet the ass girl.

There were around ten women varying in ages, most of them young-ish and attractive As they made their way toward the squat area, I noticed they all had similar assets to ass girl.

The Ass “Steroid” Girls

To say there was “ass for days” would be an understatement.

This group of women had more ass than I had seen in my life. The hip-to-waist ratio in the gym almost brought a tear to my eye.

With a bit of effort, I suspect I could wrap my hands completely around a few of their waists. Yet, each and every one of them had an ass like Nicki Minaj on steroids. I couldn’t decide if I was aroused or disgusted, but I could not stop starring. I finally regained a bit of focus and finished up my workout.

As I walked home I contemplated how gravity could allow such things to happen in nature.

I came to the conclusion that gravity cannot allow ass like that. The only way asses like that are created is through implants or ass steroids. I wasn’t sure which one it was, but I was determined to find out.

The next day I went back to the ghetto gym at the same time in the morning. I had to see if the ass was an anomaly or not.

I walked in and I quickly found the answer to my question. The ass steroid girls were back in the building. Some of them were the same girls from my first day and some of them were women I had never seen before, but… 

Not a single one was lacking.

As I worked out, I kept a keen eye on the group. Not in a creepy manner, but in an investigative manner. I had to know if all these women had ass implants or did they have some type of secret ass workout.

During my hour or so workout, I kept tabs on their lifts. They did no upper body. They did no abs. They did no calves. They did no cardio. They only lifted their ass. In total, the group did 12 different ass exercises of varying difficulty.

It was confirmed. I was working out in the land of ass steroids.

My conclusion was further confirmed when I watched a few in the group squat. Now these women do not look like bodybuilder chicks from the United States — as their upper bodies are tiny and they are certainly not ripped. They are seemingly thin and feminine except for the insane ass.

And…

These women can squat as much as I can.

During the end of my workout I glanced over at the group and saw 225 lbs. on the bar. Shocking, but I figured it was maybe their max set. One of the younger girls who probably weighed around 125 pounds of which 100+ had to have been in her ass…got under the bar. She lifted the weight and proceed to execute a perfectly formed deep squat, and then another, and then another.

She hit 10 reps with 225 lbs. on the bar like it was nothing. The next chick walked up to the rack and did the same. I immediately wrapped up my workout and left.

Watching the ass steroid girls squat bruised my ego.

Afterwards, I immediately concluded…

Those asses are not implants. Those asses are not natural. Those are asses developed by injecting some type of steroid directly into your ass.

And while working out in the land of ass steroids can be slightly intimidating, there are positives. The ass steroid girls are there every day and I haven’t put less than 225 lbs. on the squat rack after what I witnessed.

The Reality

After working out in the parking garage gym for a few weeks, I made friends with the one other foreigner who trained there - a former British military guy.

He knew the ass steroid girls and filled me in on what was actually going on.

There was always a mid-50s lady that came to the gym in the morning with the ass steroid girls.

She was the madame.

These girls were “high-end” escorts from Colombia and Venezuela. She managed them, and apparently, they all lived together in a big house outside the city.

Every weekday, the madame brought her girls to the gym and forced them to train ass and ass only.

She collected all the funds from their clients each day and helped them save cash.

They would work 3 years for her. Then she would send them back to their country, buy them a couple of nice apartments in the city they’re from, and give them whatever was left over.

She would show them how to rent out one of the apartments and live in the other.

Essentially setting these women up for life.

Supposedly.

Irregardless of how the madame manages her girls…

I still haven’t decided if I’m aroused or disgusted by the ass steroid girls.