Dia de Viaje

Travel Day. Up at the crack of dawn, la madrugada, when you don`t hear but the call of a rooster and a few creeking frogs. Meeting time, 5:30am in front of the Hotel Don Pepe, and, who did we find sitting on the edge of the terrace but our very own Don Pepe! This gentleman arose before the sun to see us off. A family run business, Don Pepe wanted to make sure we caught our bus. I am sure he relies greatly on tours like ours, and any referrals we may send him. El Valle de Anton is well worth the visit. Our only disappointment was that we didn`t have an additional day. The bus arrived on time, a 15 passenger mini-bus packed with 20. Everything runs on diesel, and you wanna hold your breath when the cars go by. These mountain valley passages are winding this way and that, easily making the average Gringo a bit nauseous (spelling?).
A half hour into the the first leg of our twelve hour journey, I realized I had left my passport and traveler`s checks in the top drawer of mi escritorio en mi habitacion. Mierda! (it sounds so much nicer in Spanish). So we stop the bus, which is really a computer link to San Carlos. Afortunadmente, el conductor del autobus tenia telefono celular. Don Pepe contesto´y me dijo "espereme a San Carlos." I thought he had his own coche. Nope. He arrived some forty-five minutes later on the next commuter van. Mi salvavidas del dia! I had to stuff the money in his hand, as he wasn`t going to accept any payment in return.
What a way to start the day. Better to discover such things when you are only 20 kilometers down the road than the over 400 kms we would be traveling to reach Bocas del Toro.
Hopped on the big bus, with a.c. and reclining seats (much like your garden variety GreyHound, a tad weathered mind you). A good six hours in transit with one stop. I slept pretty well but stomach felt a bit heavy with acid. Just needed to be filled. Our stop for gas included a roadside cafe serving a la carte hot meals. Platacones are wonderful fried plantain bananas, and these had a light syrup. I`ve been eating far too much chicken, as it is on every menu and often the only choice for reliable protein.
We disembarked in David, Chiriqui. This was a steamy town. The terminal was jammed with passengers going everywhere, including Costa Rica. We easily found our connection to Bocas, another 3 1/2 hours on bus. The men through our backpacks atop the mini-bus and covered them with a grand tarp, tying all down with cords. GRACIAS A DIOS!! Little did we know, in the one moment we would be enjoying the tranquil scenery of peasants living in palm branch and tin roofed huts on stilts--suddently to getting caught in a torrential downpour in the next. The live stock took shelter under these makeshift huts--chickens, geese and pigs. The rain came on stronger and with such force that we eventually reached a decent in the terrain with a virtual river running down the path before us, washing out and ripping apart the pavement before our eyes. I took video footage from my backseat view of the SUV... both of us swerving to avoid the potholes and going off of what remained of the road. This adreneline pumping moment wouldn`t be my last in Bocas del Toro.
Reaching the edge of the Tierra Firma (mainland), the mini-bus pulled under a lean-two. The bags were passed down and native children tried desperately to help arrange for taxi and to carry our bags. They wanted Balboas (dinero). The taxis in this region are all SUV extend cabs with pickup beds. We piled in and were whisped away to the boat launch. More children awaited us here with the same begging for a propina for helping. Soon we had some peace to take in the extraordinary views. A calm took over me. We had arrived in paradise. Walking out onto the dock, I enjoyed a network of salt water lagoons with more of these dwellings on stilts with thatched rooves. These homes hovered over the water and children would leap from their dock-like porches into the water. El barco arrived at la lancha. It had a fitted tarp cover and several rows of seats. El barco filled up with people headed for the island of Bocas. Mutliple dialects filled my ears. We met a couple of Germans, and a few Americans, too. Zoom, the bow of the barco lifted and we ripped across the choppy agua. Half way to the isla the rain lightened up (we would later learn that 15 were killed in the flash floods en la Ciudad de Panama). We spotted a marooned vessle stuck on a rock in the ocean, certainly a sweet spot for scuba divers to explore.
The sites reminded me of films I had seen of Asian and South Pacific Islands, with the huts and rice ponds and thick vegetation stretching out into the water, aquatic trees, and pelicans flying overhead.
At the docks we were met with offers to stay at this hostel and that guest house. We had reservations at El Hotel del Parque. Stunning hardwood floors hecho de madera exotica y oscura. Tucanes y PajarosVerdes nos esperaban a la entrada del hotel. Mi habitacion da vista al parque y al balcon. Es un lugar muy turistica pero hermoso. Hay un supermercado pequeno y restaurantes y tiendas de artesanias indiginas... con hamacas y molas, tipica de las Indias Kunas que viven en las Islas de San Blas (Panama del Este).
Teniamos mucho sueno (tired). So we enjoyed a light seafood meal at El Pilote. They have it all on the menu here, carne de granejos (crab), langosta y langostinos (lobster and prawn) y camarones (shrimp). "Ceviche" is a style of spicing up the dishes that we found most pleasing. Spices in the market are twenty-five cents per sachet and there are plenty to choose from. As the West Indies are near enough by, the spices have been brought over as have the Indians themselves. Several West Indians have immigrated to this country, adding to the rich diversity found mingling amongst the Mayans and Guayami and Kunas.

As luck would have it we caught the closing evening of a week long Fiesta del Mar. It was more like an outdoor block party on the edge of town. Food vendors and artisans lined each side of the dusty street Every so often an enclosed "temporary club" was blaring music. Country in one, rap in another, and club-mixed raggae in the last. Lorraine and I danced for a while, bought sunglasses and viewed the molas (Kuna indian embroiderie). The guys went back into town, discovering a floating pub that actually separated like a barge and took them out into the bay for a half hour of frivolity. Surprises around every corner.