At the Bar - Celma Moncada cools down over drinks with Trevor McGrath

Celma Moncada cools down over drinks with Trevor McGrath at the Hotel Radisson, World Trade Centre, Panama City

THE problems begin when I ask the taxi driver for the Radisson Hotel. 'No problem,' he says. But he drives past the same building four times, and I know he's lost. I get out when we pass Moncada & Moncada's offices for the second time, and get the address details of the hotel in a telephone directory in reception.

Hailing another cab, I ask for the World Trade Centre building. The cabby's wife and son are sitting in the back. He says he doesn't know where the World Trade Centre Building is. His wife hits him over the back of the head with her handbag, screams in Spanish, "Of course you do!" and we're away. I know it's near.

Fifteen minutes later, and twenty minutes late for drinks, I despairingly mention in English the Hotel Radisson. 'Ah! Hotel Radisson,' the cabby exclaims, pulling up two minutes later in front of the hotel.

Celma Moncada is accompanied by another lawyer from the practice and her son Francisco Carreira-Moncada. She looks agitated. I've tried to meet her twice now, and both times have been delayed by traffic in one form or another. I'm not surprised she's agitated, and I apologise profusely. Explaining the problem to her brings a smile.

Sitting in the upstairs restaurant, we order drinks. The restaurant is empty and we are the only people sitting in the room. I'm quite hot, and embarrassment gives way to thirst, so I order a cola without ice. Celma settles for pina colada.

The waiter brings the drinks while we discuss my epic trek from the Hotel Montreal to Hotel Radisson, a mere 1.25 miles. It turns out that the Hotel Radisson is a new hotel, in a new building. Even with a street address, many taxi drivers are unaware of it.

Celma is the senior shipping partner at Moncada & Moncada. God chose her for the role - "It was my calling," she says. But coincidence also played a part in it. After attending the Universidad de Panama, Celma joined a law firm on placement in its maritime department. The woman she was working with became pregnant and had to leave, so Celma was baptised into maritime law. "It was something I always wanted to do, and suddenly I was gaining practical experience and learning much about the way the shipping industry operates," she says.

Having worked mainly on registration work, Celma went to Spain. She was asked to return by the Panamanian government to work on a new maritime labour code to be brought into Panamanian legislation. After working on this for three years, she was made a director in charge of maritime labour affairs in the ministry of labour. This explains her interest in labour law. "Before Panama started looking into labour relations, crews on Panama-registered ships were neglected, so the government was keen to promote higher employment standards and conditions," she says.

The Panama Maritime Authority's inauguration in 1997 saw Celma's work become law. "Labour legislation is now covered under the authority's directorate of seafarers," she explains. "This means that there are now two maritime labour courts, outside of the Panama maritime court, which can hear labour grievances and personal injury claims."

The drinks are going down well, and I ask for another. As the waiter picks up my old glass with unwanted melting ice pooling in the bottom, the ring of soft tissue that was my napkin is left on the table. I order a large cola with no ice. The waiter brings back a very large glass, with lots of ice, and very little cola. Celma continues on the pina colada. I expect the new napkin to follow the way of the old and choose to ignore the ice.

At this stage, it seems appropriate to ask Celma why she went into law, much less maritime law. "I knew I wanted to be a lawyer at the age of ten," she says. "My father was shocked. He wanted me to be a ballerina." I delve deeper. Celma's family have a very strong presence in law and, at the moment, nine of them are lawyers, in different fields. So she says it was natural that she became a lawyer. It is, after all, the family business.

She could easily have been a writer. In school, her father encouraged her to write poetry. She won prizes for it. "I was offered a scholarship to study literature, so my father was surprised when I turned it down to go to law school."

So why maritime law? "No one case is ever the same and, as a maritime lawyer, I encounter a wide variety of different circumstances surrounding each new appointment." The usual answer. Some may argue that this is the case with other areas of law, but shipping's international aspects also interest Celma. "I like travelling," she says. "It is a passion of mine, and it helps to know the culture of potential clients when dealing with them. It provides a common bond."

We finish with the traditional English preoccupation with the weather. Celma says, "I don't know why but, when travelling, I always look forward to staying in the UK. It might be the weather." I look outside. It's dark, but still 32 degrees. It's all very well waking up to a rain and mist-covered landscape on holiday, but living there is something else. I like Panama.