San Jose, Costa Rica

San Jose, la capital de Costa Rica.
Ticos is the nickname given to residents of Costa Rica.

San Jose is large and sprawling, laid out on a grid of avenidas and calles.
This is a time for me to recover and relax before the second journey begins. We meet our eight new travel companions here. This section is called the Volcano Trail, as most locations we will visit border volcanos or are even in volcanic craters.
We have Asenka and Dashani, the newlyweds from Toronto. The originate from Sri Linka.
We have Xavier and Sandra, a couple from Switzerland. They speak excellent English and Sandra speaks Spanish with ease. She is 28 and he is 40 (don´t you just love the scandal?).
Helena is from England, and will share a room with Lorraine, as they are the only single girls. Both of these thirty-something-Brits will be seeking new employment upon returning to the U.K.
Karl is from Sweden. This 22 year old six foot seven (size fifteen shoe!) giant towers over these little Mayans, and is often the object of involuntary stares from the natives. Karl came from a GAP tour of Cuba.
Tom joins us from Flemish speaking Belgium where he is a nurse. Gary, our eldest, from California, is a doctor of child psychology and works in the realm of education.
The way a GAP Roam Tour works, is that we rotate roommates at each location. This will be an excellent way to get to know the individuals and to avoid clicks.

What a marvelous
In a nutshell, San Jose was spent catching up on internet, shopping for a replacement camera, and getting lostin the markets of downtown. I spent most of the day alone, so I could really chat in Spanish with the shoppe keepers of the Mercado Central.
This block-long melting pot is a warren of dark, narrow passages flanked by stalls packed with spices, fish, fruit, flowers, pets and wood and leather crafts. There are also dozens of cheap snack stalls. I was careful with my backpack, often caring it in front, to discourage pickpockets, purse snatchers, and backpack slitters.
The plazas are lively, and a cobblestone pedestrian boulevard cuts through the downtown marketplace, making up for the potholes and traffic jams found in the rest of the city.
San Jose was founded in 1737, winning independence from Spain in 1823. Coffee and banana industries financed much of this countries original wealth.

One of our evenings in San Jose was spent with our guide Steve´s American friend, Thomas who is from the state´s originally but has lived for over twenty years in Costa Rica. Primarily involved inReal Estate, Thomas was the in country rep for Rotary International,which is how Steve met during his year abroad to CostaRica during high school. As it turns out Thomas was just hired as the Executive Director of a non-profit preservation group in charge of raising thirty plus million dollars to buy up land on the Osa Peninsula, in order to protect the forests here from farming, logging, and other exploitation.
San Jose has stunning Spanish colonial architecture. We enjoyed one of our best meals yet at Cafe Mundo. Pratically hidden from the steet, it has an enourmous interior diningroom and outdoor garden patio made for a relaxing and inviting dinner. Being spoiled didn´t end here. Our accommodations at Hotel Aranjuez were also the number one pick from my Fodor´s guide (thanks, Grandma!). 1940s-era houses all tied together with extensive gardens and sitting rooms. The complimentary breakfast buffet makes lunch unnecessary.

Our last night, we had to say goodbye to our first guide, Steve. We went for a wonderful asian dinner, and to an impressive movie house to see Bourne Supremacy (for my second time). The rest of the country lags behind in modernity and convenience.

Osa Peninsula - Day Two

A leisurely morning, followed by an afternoon and early evening of guided kayaking! When on the Osa, you really oughta.
Restaurante Carolina would be our main cafe, as they served comida tipica for about three to four dollars. A plate full of food: beans, rice, cabbage salad, chicken or beef, and fried plantains. Yum.
We booked with the same folks that took Lorraine and I for yesterday´s hike through Matapalo. Their in-town office is within the restaurant.

Steve, Dale, Lorraine, Mark (of Germany), and I were picked up around one o´clock and promised an adventure on the waters aboard our one person sit-on-top kayaks.

Our guide, Joe, was from the states but moved here with his wife, who´s brother had met and married a local Tico (name given for folks from Costa Rica). They´ve fallen in love with the poor but peaceful way of life, it´s been fifteen years for them!

Afternoon = exploring the mangroves through a tidal river. Mangroves are trees with infinite and thick brown tendricals and exposed root systems. Their purpose is to collect the silt from the river and remove the nutrients, providing a home monkeys, crocs, exotic birds, tree crabs, and Jesus Christ Lizards.
Late afternoon = haul the kayaks over the dunes to the open ocean, stopping for a swim and fresh cut pineapples.
Sunset = sardines start jumping around our kayaks. Something must be causing them to swarm and dart back and forth. Ahhhhhhhhh, Dolfines!!! Surfacing and plunging, they came closer and closer to us in a chase for the sardines. What a natural high to be kayaking alongside wild dolphins. Many of them and they were on a mission, seemingly unbothered by our presence. I whistled to them, sang to them, even tried a few om´s in hopes to attract them even nearer. I have to admit, I was a bit unsure the closer they came. But it was an excited nervous, the kind you get then you know you want the thrill but are scared at the same time (like leaping off a bridge into the river -- only you don´t control the dolphins like you would your jump!).

As the sun set, we sailed back into the safety of the cove, the light shining through the surrounding mountains, creating a brilliant green scape for walls, and diamond glitter on the surf. Fishermen stood in their boats with hand lines and nets, catching red snapper and baracuda, both excellent for grilling.

Osa Peninsula - Day One

Puerto Jimenez, Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica. We arrived by boat, crossing the warm waters of el Golfito Dulce (Sweet Little Golf). With us wrapped up in a tarp, our long and narrow (seaworthy?...not!!) vessel got tossed about in the developping waves, as a downpour chased us across the bay. We shared the fare with Mark and Vera of Germany.

Animales del Bosque de la Peninsula Osa, Costa Rica, a biodiverse tract of land in need of protection.

From Puerto Jimenez, we took a day hike with bilingual Guide Carlos, a university graduate specializing in wildlife and botany, through the Matapalo Reserve. A handful of surfers were enjoying the ample sized waves of the Pacific Coast while we got an eyeful of species, most of which only the trained eye would spot. Lorraine of England and I were joined by two nurses from Nantes, France, Juliette and Abdulla, the latter being of Algerian descent. I acted as translator for this couple, as they did not speak Spanish and had limited English.

The vine like Matapalo (kill-stick) is a tree in these parts that grows up other trees, using them as hosts. A few vines circle around the tree, eventually growing wide enough around the tree to join itself and form a new skin-bark for the original tree, absorbing the old tree´s nutrients. The tree inside is strangled and decomposes. The other unusual tree is called the Cara Tigre and has a square trunk.

Here are the critters we spotted on our day hike of the Osa Peninsula along the ocean and up into the reserve along river beds leading to cascading water falls. I encourage an internet search for animals of Panama where I am certain you will be able to find sample pictures of these stunning jungle creatures.

Lapa Roja (Scarlet Macaw) We saw so many, that when they took shelter in the trees just prior to a rain shower, the tree appeared like a giant flowering plant full of bright red blossoms. They screech like parrots (a bit annoying actually) but to see them in flight is breathtaking. They fly in pairs and mate for life. So you typically see two very close together -- be it in the tree or in the air. Their tales are longer than their bodies and they have an enormous wingspan.

Tucan o Quioro (chestnut mandibled toucan) These black birds are very chatty and curious. Their yellow and orange bills look far too heavy for flight. The bills are actually hollow and I was able to pet the ones owned by our inn keepers on Bocas del Toro.

Gauilan cangrerero (common black/roadside hawk) These birds sit in branches along the roads or fields awaiting small rodents. When in flight, they have white tipped fingerlike plumage, typical of most hawks.

Oso Peresoso tres dedos (three toed sloth) Lazy bones, these gray teddy bears move through the trees at a snail´s pace, in part because the leaves they feed on have a doping effect which keeps them in a semi-sluggish state. The male has a black stripe of hair down his back. Their toes are actually claws. I am told that predators (like crocodiles) will wait for them to come down from the tree, when they are most vulnerable. Sloths come down the tree once per week in order to defecate. They will dig a small hole in the ground for this purpose and bury it when finished. As they do not have feet made to run on the ground, they can be an easy target. Crocodiles will wait for over a week if need be.

Pisote (racoon family) During our picnic at the surfboard hut, a couple brave pisotes neared the table in hopes of getting a taste of our tuna fish sandwiches and fresh avocado. Long black and grey striped tails, chunky bodies and possom faced, they still behaved like racoons.

Mono Titi (squirrel monkey) Clever, playful and agile. What a giggle we had watching these aerial acrobats. Babies on backs of mothers and juveniles in chase. They crossed our paths several times and in a few different locations in Panama.

Mono Congo Auyador (howler monkey) If you wonder when it is going to rain, don´t worry, the howler monkeys will alert you about twenty minutes in advance of the rain. Almost like howling dogs, the howler will bark in excitement. They love the rain, as it cools them down. I was surprised with the amount and high decible of noise which travels a great distance through the jungle.

Mono Cara Blanca - Capuchin (White-faced or cappuchino monkey) As the name suggests, they are the color of coffee and have white faces. We placed a banana in the crotch of a tree branch to lure one down for a better view. She was happy to oblige, snatching the banana before her brother could get to it. They spend much of their time teasing and do, in fact, groom one another with great affection.

El Tamandua (ant eater) He was in the tree snorting around for ants and termites. The termite nests are abundant in the trees, and look like large brown chunks of dirt balled up and encircling the limbs of trees. Our guide showed us how the termites create hidden path from the groud up the tree trunk to their nest. Scraping away the camouflaged trail reveals thousands of hungry little insects whose main goal is to chew! The ant eater seems to have an abundance of food and quite a snout for rooting out termite delicacies. The ant eater we spotted was shy and slow, pretty high up in the tree and able to cross into other trees with his long and powerful silver-grey legs and tail.

Mariposa Morfo Azul (blue morph butterfly). She is brilliant blue in flight and looks like a dry dead brown leaf when pearched on a plant with wings closed. This is an evolutionary camouflage to protect her from getting gobbled up by birds, lizards and snakes.

Arana Dorada (Golden Spider) Glad to learn more about these spiders AFTER the bat caves of Bocas. These golden speckled black spiders have a red dot on their belly which could make you pretty ill but probably not fatal to a full grown adult. Their webs were along several of the senderos.

Colibri (hummingbird). Plentiful and quick, the vibration of their wings sounds like a giant bumble bee. So many colors and miniature shapes and sizes, my favourite the one inch, three gram, emerald ones with purple throats. They must be careful not to land on the wrong flowering Eliconia (birds of paradise). Although the nectar of this plant is delicious, the green vine snake often awaits them, curled around the stem and a perfect color match that frightened me, as I never knew if I was seeing the plant stock or a snake.

Jesus Christ Lizard. Called thus, because the have the ability to walk, or should I say dash, across the water in an upright position.

The plant which continues to amaze me the most is called the sleepyhead, dormilona. When you touch the leaves of this fern, she shrinks away, withdrawing her leaves back to the stem (useful in avoiding damage from rain and other natural disasters).

In most cases, tipping your guide is a good idea, as they get very little of the money that is collected from the tour company that sets of these excursions. Even five extra dollars can cover the meals for their family for the day.

We returned from our hike to learn that our bags had been packed for us and we had been relocated from Iguana Iguana Hotel to Marciela´s Cabinas, run by a lovely woman by the name of Magda(lena). We were so relieved, as the Iguana was a breeding ground for insects, our rooms having been taken over by spiders and ants. Our new rooms were spotless and with a.c.
As it turns our, Mark and Vera of Germany, and Juliette and Abdulla of France were all staying here. We had a good fun chatting into the night with our new friends. Let`s just say it was an evening of Cuba Libres. This was the night we strolled down to what would be an empty pub and the boys tending bar were watching a risque program. We didn`t stay (honest!).
On the return to the hotel, we met a horse tied up on the roadside, standing in the mud on the edge of a bog. We gave her some carresses and listened to monotonous frogs.
I fell asleep quickly, only to learn the next morning that Steve, Dale and Lorraine stayed up taking silly pictures of each other... and a couple of the sleeping angel (me!).

Puerto Jimenez, Osa Peninsula

A grueling journey out of Panama and across the frontera via the scorching pueblo de Neily would take us to un tresoro ecologico, Peninsula Osa, en el Golfito Dulce, el Mar Caribe.
The bus dropped us a la lancha del barco, o barquiiiiiiiiito! We negotiated for a long narrow boat, more of a glorified canoe with an engine to take us across the Golfito Dulce out to the Osa Peninsula, avoiding the extra four hours to go around by bus.
Choppy waves ahead, a setting sun in the west, and a heavy rainstorm chasing us from the north, we nestled under a large blue tarp with all of our packs stored in the front. A stunning German couple joined us, sharing the costs. Mark and Vera, a professor of statistics and law student respectively. They were funny, athletic and engaging--excellent linguists. Germans that travel internationally are typically well versed in multiple languages, especially English.
We managed to stay ahead of the rain, but the boat was an adventure in wondering when it would just flip over in the waves crashing over the bow.
A taxi took us to Iguana Iguana Pension. Nasty! The insects had taken up residence. Noone was there to greet us, and the rains came crashing down. Finally the cantine across driveway opened up... a sign of life.
Two adorable black and white rabbits, evidently tame, entertained us in their hopping antics.
Dinner at Restaurante Carolina introduced us to the Casado, typical dish of Costa Rica. The Casado, litterally meaning "married", brings together rice and beans, platacones (fried plantain bananas) or fries, a meat choice (fish, beef, or chicken) or vegetables, and a small cabbage salad.
Exhausted, I didn`t care that a trail of ants were making their way from the window sill onto the floor and beyond. The next day Lorraine and I would come home to a message that Steve and Dale had "moved us to a new hostel!"

Trepando en Boquete

Axel, the German Innkeeper, proved to be a visual leaner. He drew two hiking maps, full of legends without a key. I would have to pay close attention if I was to remember every little detail and scratch of his pen, identifying bridges, huts, trees, fences, paved and nonpaved paths.
With two days in Boquete and the weather sunny and cool enough for hiking, we left Dale to recover. His ex-rays revealed a torn heel ligament that Dale would need to stay off of for about three more days. Alec, the fellow from the Berkshires, had also rolled into town.
A taxi delivered us to the lowlands of Boquete, to the base of the Quetzal trail. The Quetzal is the Central Aamerican´s favourite green, longtailed bird that migrates here for a few months out of the year. We didn`t seen any... but the hike was grand. It followed old pipelines up to a dam and circular pond being filled by three waterfalls. A few frogs, butterflies, small birds, and a hummingbird entertained us. The typical insects were all over, such as red army ants and termites that create huge nests on trees.
In the evening, Alec drove us to Caldera. Steve had been to some natural thermal baths located in the fields of a remote farm. The sun had gone down by the time the Nissan Pathfinder brought us to the closest possible entry point for the path to the farm. Bumpitty, bump, bump all the way up, with rocks scraping the undercarriage.
We entered through a tall metal gate, Steve leading the way. He "kind of remembered" how to get there. As the impending obscurity made the trail invisible to us, Lorraine took out her mini flashlight. At some point it stopped working, the bulb blew. With Dale`s bad ankle, we were slow going, and Steve had completely disappeared and wasn`t responding to our calls. Roots of trees, stones, mud, small steams... every obstacle made this a painful walk for Dale and a guessing game as to which way to go for all of us. The barking several upset dogs and the honking of geese became our beacon. Steve must have woken up the farmer`s family. We were soon all reunited. Dale was not impressed by the walk and noone blamed him.
The farmer was surprised but happy to receive us and fetched a bamboo walking stick for Dale. We paid a dollar each to enjoy a couple thermal pools with stone walls around them. He provided a flashlight, asking us to leave it at the end of the trail so he could reclaim it later (we would leave a few more "thank you" dollars with the light). He quite seriously cautioned us to mind our steps for snakes and went back to bed.
HOT! But bearable. Soothing and fun. We soaked for an hour and told stories. Steve and Alec made their way down to the steam for a cooldown sesson. Dale rested up on the steps of a campesinos dorm.
The return through the woods was rapid, as we discovered the actual path!
Lorraine and I enjoyed a second day of hiking through a canyon with Axel`s other map. He wants us to come up with a name for this trail that starts at the Mozart Cafe and ends at his coffee plantation. We snuck a ride in the back of a pickup truck along the stone laden workers route along orchards of avocado and citrus trees. We couldn`t miss our entry point to the trail. Axel had said he had marked the tree with a circle and a snake design squiggled through it. Wack! I slapped the side fender of the truck bed with my hand to signal our man to stop when I spotted the paint. A dollar for his generosity and we made our way along a fence. The trail sharply dropped but the footing held as descended into the canyon.
The stream in the base of the canyon was gentle, and a nearby waterfall surrounded in budding flowers revealed a family of soft blue, orange and yellow butterflies. What a spot for a honeymoon hide-away. Close enough to town yet remote and stunning. Lushness and verdent splendor, rays of sunlight drenching the flowers and the banana trees. Someone must have planted these, as these flowers and trees were not evident anywhere else on the path.
Snap, click, a few photos and up the otherside of the canyon through a fence and "mira, una finca de cafe!" Twelve to fifteen foot high coffee bushes. A few step ladders alongside them for picking the beans. A very faint odor of coffee and lots of sunshine. How fortunate for Alex. Lorraine and I ran through the rows of coffee plants that were tightly woven with little room to pass. A few citrus trees were present and trees with orange flowers. We found poinsettia trees as large as a house! clearing the first field, a wide truck path revealed an indian hut and a cluster of four little children sitting atop a pic-nic blanket, drinking punch. Later we wouild see mother working in the field with a twelve year old son. The small children were Guaymi indians with BIG eyes, opened wide in the wonder of what these two pale folks were doing walking out of the leaves of the coffee plants. They wore brighly colored dresses, all handmade with embroidered fabric cut-outs. The workers we soon met all wore galoshes to keep the mud from ruining their feet.
We were happy, they were happy, everyone working and moving.
Following the truck path out, we passed greenhouses and buildings being erected... the signs of prosperity for these families and for Alex.
These children will probably live and die on this plantation, continuing the production and harvest, just as their parents and their grandparents. They were not going to school They were an example of third world life and the uncertainty of educational reform and enforcement in these areas where some inhabitants go uncounted and often unnoticed. This is neither good nor bad, unless you come from the mindset that the rules and expectations of first world lifestyle are for everyone. I catch myself feeling sorry for them, and then remind myself of their simplicity of life and honest work. I note the remarkable belleza y naturaleza that surrounds them, and how first world nations have raped and polluted their lands and the material minds of their inhabitants.
Spoiled or unspoiled, educated or uneducated, right from wrong? Who`s to say?
In any event, I am here to observe and must refrain from concrete judgements. I am, however, able to use these experiences to inform myself of the lifestyle that works for me, and the many options and ways of life available to those willing to venture. I know how fortunate I am to be blessed all of you back at home. Falmouth is not to be taken for granted, nor the gifts of comfort found in the daily lives of family, friends, co-workers and access to education.

Viajando a Boquete

Hasta Luego Bocas de Toro y Hola Boquete.
Leaving the isla on a five a.m. boat, enjoyed a rising sol that provided a diamond effect on the calm waters. Travel days are exhausting but much of the richness and topography of a country as well as the diversity of lifestyles of the peoples inhabiting one area to the next will be more evident through the window of a bus, and found in the faces and the voices of those seated next to you or standing in the isles clinging to the handrails.
Many of the buses are old school buses from the States and Canada--the same models I would ride to school in as a child. Believe me, Falmouth buses are posh in comparison.
We traveled to David, Chiriqui. This is one of the larger cities in Panama and serves as a midway point for those in transit throughout the country, or those heading north into Costa Rica. A major hospital would help determine the degree of Dale`s injuries.
Steve accompanied Dale to the hospital and Lorraine and I continued on to Boquete with their large backpacks. What a delicious, glorious freshness awaited us. Boquete is known for her moderate, comfortable climate, bountiful crops, and friendly people.
I had met a British couple on the plane, Paul and Diane, who had just bought property in Boquete, planning to retire here next year.
Well this was a decrepid bus that crawled from David to Boquete, but the handful of natives on board were delightful and chatty. We had fun learning about Boquete and they were very curious to know our stories.
They knew of the Pension Topas in which we were staying, so one kind lady asked the driver to make a special stop to drop us, and a second kind lady actually got off the bus with us to provide a personal escort to the front door! Thankfully, she helped carry the two extra backpacks.
Innkeeper Axel is an immigrant from Germany. He explained that his (presently ill) mother also lives nearby, that he produces coffee. We were introduced to his Costarican girlfriend, we guessed to be half his age. She was nursing their baby. Leika, their boxer, greeted us in the garden. Our rooms were nothing fancy, and a bit damp. The rooms all faced out onto a covered terrace in which clusters of chairs and tables with neatly draped cloths made for a cozy social spot. We met Donald and Lia who were finishing their month of topographic surveying in the Calderas area of hot springs. They were determining such things as where the roads and powerlines would be placed.
The evening here is so pleasant. The internet cafe surprisingly affordable, at just 50 cents per hour and it is attached to the marvelous Cafe Java Juice... where they serve the best Batidos anywhere! Batidos are typically fruit drinks blended with water or milk with lots of ice. They used ice cream, hurray!! When you come to Boquete, do choose chocolate and peanutbutter or the blackberry Batidos. The charming girls behind the counter had big smiles and were playing music from a station without a theme. First country western, followed by hip hop, followed by classic, ... no rhyme or reason to the music.
The vegetables here are FRESH and plenty of them. The people are engaging and down to earth. The real estate is getting gobbled up by Europeans, as it has been identified as the number one location for those wishing to retire in Latin America. A must see for anyone considering Panama, and wishing to escape the relentless heat from most other locations.

Drama, Tragedia y Comedia

Everyone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed... but all three of us?

Have you ever had one of those days when the universe tests your ability to bounce back. Or perhaps you´ve witnessed this happening to a new friend and it tells you a lot about their degree of sanity during a time of crisis?

Steve rented the big-boy-motorcross bike, Dale the 4-wheeler, and, Lorraine and I left a half hour later on the two seater, two speed moped ($25 per vehicle for a half day rental).

Let me cut to the chase. This is a trilogy-tragedy-comedy.
Dale equals involuntary projectile as he is thrown from the quadropod whipping around a bend during an ascent trying to keep up with Steve. Dale has never driven a motorcyle and certainly didn`t know the limits of a quadropod. Lorraine and I came around the bend to find them on the edge of the road searching in the woods for the missing pieces of the crashed 4-wheeler! Dale´s ankle is swollen and he´s limping around shaking his head in shock and disbelief. This scene sifts out to Dale and Steve returning to the motorcycle shoppe. Dale spends the afternoon drinking Balboas with his leg propped up on ice, on a pillow atop the coffee table of the hotel balcony (nice view of the Parque Central).
The serene and isolated Playa de Dragos, where Lorraine and I set out for, is located on the far side of the island. We had a grand afternoon riding thru the tropical (and only) road that cuts thru the center of the island. The sound of the cicadas superceded the engine of the moped! At first we thought it was a chain saw. One of those walk on water, upright "Jesus Christ lizards" (as they are called here) dashed across the road. Skinny, rib baring cows grazed in the hills. Three children were returning from school on horseback. No insects in this heat. The Dragos beach was essentially vacant. We saw perhaps five others. The water was hot! Not luke warm. Hot.
Relaxing, in our semi-private beach setting, Steve shows up and raccounts the "return of the damaged goods" story to us. We continue our swim and chat time. Chatting in the water I comment to Steve and Lorraine how nice it would be if camera accessory manufacturers supplied waterproof camera bags, which would be especially nice in these tropical, rain everyday regions of the world. Exiting the water we reach for our bags on the rock-lined embankment. I notice my camera isn´t visible as I scan the rocks and look inside my pack. Caramba!, it´s floating in the ocean, having slipped and rolled down the rocks through a small opening below a log. It was too crazy. Taking a deep breath, I retrieved the bag from the water and exited the camera. The water poured out of it. I could have laughed, I could have cried. I decided to laugh. It was purely rediculous how much water I continued to shake out of this mini apparatus. Sea water and electronic equipment are not compatible. The warranty or my insurance "should" cover this. I will have to mail it home if I cannot find a Sony repair shoppe in San Jose, Costa Rica.
Let it go. There´s nothing I can do to change what has happened. My travel companions have since placed their cameras in zip locking bags. If you are taking travel notes, please highlight that one! You´ll never get to see me in that gray speedo posing on the coconut tree that overhangs the water. Oh well... there´s a reason for everything (wink).
If you`re countaing, that makes two for two. --"What else could go wrong today?" We joked about things happening in threes.

Parting from Plays de Dragos, Steve returns to hotel to check on Dale.

Lorraine and I decide to check out las cuevas, La Gruta (the caves). Steve assured us they were worth seeing, but not a big deal for a return visit. A slight, weathered woman appears at the gate to collect a conservation dollar from each of us. She goes back to fetch a couple of linternas (flashlights) then accompanies us down the narrow cement walkway to the cave entrance. We walk into the jungle and melodic birds are cheering us on. A small amphi-theatre style chapel overlooks the cave entrance. A sculpted figurine matron is on bended knee looking up to the Virgen Mary sculpture placed way up in a natural crevice shelf at the top of the cave entrance.

We can already hear the bats.

Our only instructions from the pointing woman are that we start thru that path which circles thru the cave and returns on a path over yonder leading back to the original one. Sounded simple and she was so nonchalent about this "loop".

The darkness swallows us up faster than we have time to adjust to. The head clearance starts off as reasonable but the spring which created the cave gets wider and deeper, leaving little room for passage along the shelf like, treacherous edges we are straddling. It`s getting muddy. The rocks are slippery, and the stalagtites and mites became obstacles as we burrow deeper. The linternas are weak, providing an uncomfortable range of limited illumination. Lorraine speaks of her knees shaking. I decide we have to enter the water if we are going to continue. Stopping to process this decision, our feet on the last horizontal stones, I point the light at where Lorraine has placed her hand for leverage. I think it was the spiders that really gave her the final push over the psychological edge. Lorraine´s breathing changed, her voice was nervous and sentences short. Large black spiders with gold stripes awaiting patiently in their webs are littered along the walls. Lorraine`s hand has somehow missed encourtering them but the light reveals four. If her hand were at the center of a cross, a spider was at each extremity. I extended my hand which she readily accepted.
Slipping into the stream, we waded onward, trying not to imagine what might be in the water. The bats above our heads made that easy.
Relieved, in no time we had reached the exit of the cave. It was thrilling. I was psyched, and, within a couple minutes, Lorraine seemed okay, too. We could see the walkway above that would lead us out of this heroic brush with danger. I start looking around for an evident path or sign. That`s when I notice a few yards ahead the entrance to a second cave.
Lorraine "You`ve got to be kidding me. If you think I`m going back in, you`ve positively lost it."
I convince her. This second cave quickly becomes difficult to navigate. I keep hoping the next bend will illuminate, revealing the exit. I doesn`t. The ceiling closes in on us to the point that our packs are catching on the stalagtites, even when we are in a hunched over position. We are already waste deep in the murky water, dragging feet through the silty bottom. A sharp bend the left and the ceiling opens up bit. Swish!! Bats are dodging our heads. We feel the current of wind from their flaps. I decide not to shine the light on them, as it only scares them and me more. The guana (bat dung) and drips of condensation from the rocks overhead is constant. Lorraine is whistling "These are a few of my favourite things" from the Sound of Music, to cheer herself up. I am idly chatting positive words of encouragement "You`re doing great, Lorraine! There. Look. It`s just a bit further."-- assuring her that we are almost out as I can see light up ahead. Surely this must be the end, as with each step the cavern is flooded with natural light.
A two foot by one foot whole from above, leading some ten feet up to the surface has tricked us. There`s no way I can push her up that high, and I am doubtful that either of us would actually fit through the opening. Our hearts sink. "Should we turn back?", she asks. "I don`t know. How about if we just go bit further?" Lorraine`s fear and irritation responds with "Whatever we do, let`s keep moving!" The terror in her voice is evident. Although I can`t see them, I am almost certain the tears are blinding her. On the ground below the exposed whole, there are the remains of charcoal logs. I figure the exit must be soon, as noone in their right mind would`ve hauled these logs from the distance we had come, and some of the charcoal logs appeared too large to have been shoved through the whole (right?).
Soon we are back into crouched positions, still getting God knows what on our bodies from the critters above the water line, and even worse thoughts about the snakes and leaches that might have already found us.
Within a couple minutes, I can feel the rush of air. We are climbing more vertically upwards. The water is not as deep and is moving more quickly. There are more active bats and the ceiling has opened up. All good signs!! In a gloriously welcome turn, voila!, daylight!
With sighs of relief and the wiping of our brows, we are beeming with smiles and laughter. We joyously run out of the cave and up the banking onto the grass. We recompose ourselves, adjust our packs and look around.
Not so fast. There are no signs. There are no paths.
"Where is the path?", asks Lorraine. "It`s gotta be here somewhere. Perhaps just up there." We are deep in a ravine. Both of the jungle walls around us are steep. Looking up river, it is swampy and too dangerous. We to the top of the left bank, as it looks like a clearing beyond the first line of trees we see. Arriving to the top it is just a vastness without end. My thoughts are nearly drownded out by the critters of the forest who are laughing at us. Orienteering ourselves with the hypothetical direction of the caves, we agree it must be the other side we need. We climb all the way back down to the river. The walls of the hill are unforgiving, the footing unsure. Looking back into the cave, we realize that may be over only sure way of return.
No way! I am not risking Lorraine having another meltdown in the cave. She`s still wiping the tears from eyes. I tell her how brave she has been.
We tromp through the strangling vegetation of ferns, banana trees, wild grasses and note the canopy above. I have flashbacks of the men we would see on the previous hikes. They always carried a machetee. I don`t have one. The sun is setting. I glance at the watch. Lorraine see me and confesses she`s already noted we probably have but 45 minutes before the sun will have dropped behind distant mountains, enshrowding us in darkness. I am planting each foot with determined stride. My inner dialogue empowers me with "I will not give up. We will get out of this. I trust that I am exactly where I am supposed to be and the path I am to take will be revealed." A calmness comes over me as I let go of my fear.
"Look, Lorraine! We`ve stumbled upon a path!" Sure enough, a freshly cut path, wide enough for one foot in front of the other led us upwards and around to a clearing. In the field we spot an old water tank. Crossing the field we spot a hut and finally the cement walkway.
We`re out!!
"I´m gonna kill him!", jokes Lorraine. "Steve told us we should do it.", she teases.
With feet now on pavement, we are practically skipping with the satisfaction that we`ve made out way out of the jungle. We call to the woman. By now her husband has returned from work, and the whole family has come out to greet us. I am babbling in Spanish about how "we spotting the path after the first cave, but when we came out of the second cave..." She cuts me off, "What second cave?" That gets a nervous laugh from us. Soon we are all laughing about our misadventure, as I recount what had happened. "Oh, no, you were supposed to come right back to the path at the exit of the first cave." -- "Oh, thanks!!", I jokingly quip.
The children are giggling and looking on with amazement and wonder. The are shocked that I speak Spanish, and with such fluency. But I can`t seem to start the moped! I attempt popping the clutch on a descent of the hill.
After a few tries, I realize I haven`t put the key in the ignition.
Well, that really gets us roaring, and puts us into a wonderful mood. This comic relief is marvelous therapy.
Helmets on, Lorraine and I venture back to the "inhabited side of the island!" That makes three. Lorraine thanks me profusely for holding her hand and getting her through what was for her a claustrophobic nightmare.
The sun is setting, and the insects are now coming out and hitting my face. I remove one from my eye and place on my sunglasses that have miraculously stayed in the collar of my t-shirt during the cave walk.
We find Dale with leg propped up and beer bottle in hand, "for the pain", he says with a bright smile and his usual twinkling blue eyes.
The shower, ahhhh. I can`t scrub enough, thinking of all the grime that we`ve been through. I take my mud-caked sandals into the shower to express the crud from the treds.
Our inn-keeper loans a bicycle to Dale so we can all go to dinner.
Surely the stories of this day will get a lot of mileage. My friends are amazed how I handled the mishap with the camera. I remind them that I am a teacher, and that we deal with minor and major crisis on a daily basis!
As with most happenings in life, how you choose to deal is based on perception. Although it is perfectly natural to get upset, it is the staying upset that isn`t necessary. Processing those everyday stresses and letting go of the things we can not change will strengthen our will, free our spirit, and create a sense of confidence and balance. Touch your temples. The secret to happiness is locked between those lobes. Perhaps this place called earth is a material world designed to help us trigger growth in the spiritual. I am chosing on this trip to give conscious emphasis on nurturing my life experience. Please open your minds and hearts to others. Whether it be through travel or the random acts of kindness that you may do several times each day in the lives of those around you.
This sabbatical year involves much travel. We call the purpose of my travel "experiential learning."
I want my students (and invite others) to attempt to define experiential learning. Identify its importance. Draw a comparison to institutional learning. I want you to explore your options for experiential learning that you desire (list examples you`ve already enjoyed and ones you hope for). Finally, I ask that you devise a plan to make the experiential learning that you may desire into a reality. This will often start with research (find others that have gone before you and ask them lots of questions), narrowing in on a field/focus (name that exciting dream), taking an inventory of the resources and tools you will need (such as funding and permission), and setting a time line.
Paz y Amor a Todos.

Aventura en Barco

Bienvenidos a la isla tranquila. Eventually venturing out of the hotel, we are approached by a couple Panamanian tour boat operators who are strategically waiting outside our hotel, ready to invite us on a tour for $15 per person -- promising several locations until five or six o´clock. Steve felt that this was a good deal. Meanwhile, Dale is getting offers a few feet away for $10 each from a competitor who was hoping we would renege. I guess at that point in the day they are ready to bargain, but we were already committed.
Rushing around isn´t permitted on this isla. Breakfast of vegetarian omelette and chocolate frappe ($3) was followed by feeding the hotel birds a banana. As soon as la senora started peeling the banana they got silly acting and started dancing . Their beaks were jutting out through the cage wires with anticipation. Friendly and chatty, the toucans would take the banana slice in their beaks toss their heads back in order to position the slice at the appropriate angle for allowing it to easily be swallowed whole. Our boat guide is patiently awaiting our slow advance into the day.
Finally we had ourselves and our day packs ready for a half-day guided tour of Bocas del Toro by private boat, snorkeling gear included. Lovely and spacious boat just for the four of us. Our first stop was into a lagoon filled with playful dolphins. I´d have gone swimming with them but they were too busy eating the endless supply of little white jelly fish with red tentacles... so I thought it best not to disturb their efforts.
Next stop was snorkeling in green shallow waters and corals at off the docks off a cafe cabana. Can you say absolutely spoiled rotten? Yeah, that would be the feeling in a nutshell. That is, until the five foot baracuda showed up on the scene to sample the bread we were feeding to the schools of angel fish, green rays and others in a virtual explosion of colors and movement. Senora Baracuda was slow moving, hovering along the bottom and often in the shadows. She frightened me when the wise guy above us tossed his rice plate into the water around us, causing her to rise and come for a bite. Exit water Bruce.
I did return later, but with some residual adrenaline and caution. Note to pack aqua socks. I did and was thankful, as flippers were not provided and coral is not safe to stand on, not to mention the many beaches you (and I) will surely visit along the journy.
Next stop to the Bastimentos reserve, La Playa de la Rana Roja ($1 donation for conservation efforts). Although it wasn´t the season for me to view them, this is a protected beach for turtle breeding. I have an affinity for turtles. Anyone that has visited my home has seen my handcrafted collection of sculpted wooden, stone and pottery turtles from around the world.
Our guide quickly found a small red frog with black poka-dots in the woods. This was about the same time I watched a lizard run across the surface of the pond, upright on its hind legs. It looked rediculous, hilarious, simply make believe. A large german shepard named blue accompanied us from this point of our walk all the way to the ocean´s edge. Steve took out a frisbee from his pack and Blue got in on the action. He chased the frisbee and us. If we didn´t catch it, he would stand on it and growl at us if we tried to take it from him. A little scary at first to have a large, incognito canine showing teeth. I spoke sharply to him in Spanish "ven aqui, Blue", commanding him to come to me. He obeyed, freeing the frisbee. He eventually tired, as Steve was running him up and down the beach. Blue would jump up trying for the frisbee in Steve´s hand, and at one point attempted a nip at Steve´s butt. We were in stitches at this site.
Blue cooled off in the water. We followed suit, switching to frisbee and swimming in the water, as Blue didn´t venture over his head. Dale got us all body surfing. Lorraine hadn´t much experience and was thrilled to try. The waves weren´t quite forceful enough to truly ride, but we didn´t mind. We were laughing and giggling and telling silly stories that our hour zipped past. Our boat guide came to the water´s edge to retrieve us for our last stop, a coral reef for more snorkeling. I didn´t want to leave!! The life on the bottom included starfish, giant pots of fleshy material that was shared by sea anenomes and sea urchins tucked inside of pockets. The simbiotic sharing of space for safety and feeding is remarkable. I enjoyed a colorful floral show that suddenly disappeared if I got too close--blink, retracting themselves into the safety of the coral orifices.
Happily exhausted, hemos visto el ocaso (la baja del sol) en llegando en barco a la lancha.

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.

Best night of sleep since my arrival. The country air and peaceful spot served well for the day we would have. Our inquisitive pair of love birds and pair of green macaws greeted us with chirps and screaches. Popped a couple bare necessities like bug repellant and a camara in the daypack and off for a hike after a simple egg and corn fritter breakfast.
Blue blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds hovering around the tips of the peaks invited to climb them. Steve had done the hike a year earlier and so we opted not to hire the guide that was standing hopefully in front of the Hotel Don Pepe. We made it to the end of the road, just before the turn off for the trail, where we found half the town lined up on the edge of the street ready to watch the other half of the town that was preparing for a parade. I inquired "¡Que pasa?" to the two officers on the side walk. They explained we were witnessing an age old parade kicking off the Fiesta de Campesinos, a sort of agricultural festival for the field workers. It was sponsored by a school, or perhaps benefited the school. We met the director of the school while filming the children dressed in traditional garb and pageantry. Oxen drawn carts loaded with the harvest of September and smoked meats would be pulled from this end of town to the school, where dancing, singing and fireworks kept everyone busy for the day.
We were headed, however, to view la Piedra Pintada y la India Dormida. (Dale felt ill at this point with stomach cramps, so he headed back to the hotel)
Three hours of earnest trail hiking up, across and back down the wall and ridge of this crater revealed splendid views and sounds of wilderness. We were first met by a senior man riding horseback that insisted we take his horse for a ride, which I gladly did. Fortunately he (the horse) was very cooperative and obedient. We gave the kind sir a "regalo" in exchange for his generosity. As it turns out, he just wanted us to hop on the back of the horse... Steve later told me the man was surprised that I had actually taken off on his horse! (oops).
The trail up followed swift mountain stream, full of rocks and waterfalls. At the base of the trail we crossed paths with a few workers hauling vegetation out of the jungle to sell in the market. Two sweaty young men with trees on their backs grinned ear to ear, posing for a photo.
A small girl ran to the edge of the yard of her "casita" to greet us. She was all of eight years old and offered to be our guide, to take us to the painted rock, and to tell us the history of these peleoglyphic carvings. Although we politely thanked her refusing, she followed us just the same with a big smile. The depictions on the large bolder included a snail, a frog, and a horse head... yet served as a map to the peoples who inhabited the region. I invited her to hike with us, but she said it was easy and we wouldn´t get lost. We stumbled upon another such rock later on our journey.
Well, we did get a bit lost.
We stumbled into the jungle home of a family of Mayan/Chorro descendents. You know how shy I am, calling out "Hola, ¿hay alguien por aqui? Nos faltamos del sendero." The father sent the three children out to tend to our questions about retracing our route to find the correct path. They were so excited and delighted to see us, that they hiked some distance with us, leading us to the head of the Sleeping Indian Girl. There we found a man with a maschete knife and small dog. As it turned out he was their uncle and was accompanying a guy from Massachusetts, named Alex, who had also lost his way! It is, in deed, a small world afterall. The children pointed to their home from this peak and then pointed way across the other side of the crater, back to the village, to show us their school. These children wake up at four o´clock each morning, bathe, eat breakfast and litterally run to school through the jungle, barefoot. I am still astonished by this, as the smallest one is only five years old. Romelio would run ahead, turn around to smile and giggle, pretending to show me the way... tricking me and dashing in a different direction. He would shimmy up a tree and swing like a monkey. These children were agile, clever, well spoken, and quite happy to be living amongst (in their words) "just us and the snakes, butterflies, birds and our family."
They call this particular section of the crater´s ridge The Sleeping Indian Girl, because from a distance the shape of the ridge ressembles a girl lying down, y hay un cuento folklorico that accompanies this natural phenomenon (basically a Romeo and Julliet love story).
The vista from above gave way to a landscape right out of the Lord of the Rings!! Vulture hawks flying in circles in the midday sun.
The descent was quick and tricky. Rocks and humid mud. Toward the base of this trail our make shift guide, Tio Carlos, led us through a jungle neighborhood, a network of small houses surrounded by wire fences and garden vegetation. Lots of activity, with everyone outside raking, cleaning, even dancing.
Hungry and thirsty were we. An outdoor market made for fun shopping. I bought bread, fruits, a crunchy caramel candy, eating on the terrace of the hotel. Dale was feeling better and joined us for a hike over to los Pozos Termales (The Thermal Potholes/Baths), a natural outdoor hot springs. A mud pit and two large spring fed pools soothed our muscles. We played in the mud, smearing it all over ourselves. Then we soaked for a half hour in the minderal rich bath. Returning home Steve and I opted for a refreshing coconut juice. The market vender takes his knife and chops off the top of the coconut, placing a straw in the small hole that is created... and you sip away directly from the shell.
Folks, it is just another day in the life of GAP Adventures in Panama. Tomorrow we leave EARLY (5am) for Boca de Toros.
Please feel free to write and ask questions that you may have about Central America and indigenous life. If I don´t know the answer, I will do my best to inquire on your behalves.
Chau. (Ciao).

Pack it up we did on Friday morning and left a remote village tucked in the basin of a volcanic crater. It´s called El Valle. I sit now writing to you from a computer looking out at a grand view of the mountains we climbed today.
First let me tell you that we made our way to the Panama City bus station with ease and were quick to find our bus. The buses in Panama are colorful, airbrush painted like the artwork you´d expect to see on pinball machines. You can find depictions of Mr. T from the A Team, Hollywood stars, Wild Animals, and a scantilly dressed senorita painted next to Jesus Christ. Religion is seemlessly spliced into the raciness of their daily lives.
I was pleased to inspect the pack sizes of my travelmates and see that I hadn´t overpacked. My camera equipment weighs the most.
A two and a half hour bus ride Northwest through the subtropical forests of Panama brought us to this absolutely marvelous, quiet and friendly village. We saw McDonalds, fruit markets with piles of pinas, naranjas y guavas. It essentially rained all day. We are staying at the Hotel Don Pepe that has a restaurant and gift shop on en la planta baja (ground floor) and tropical birds in the back garden. Don Pepe is a gregarious fellow who extended his hand with a heartfelt "Bienvenidos" showing the way to our rooms. We fell in love with the remoteness of this valley and the curious residents. The children were all returning home from school in their uniforms. After a bite to eat in the hotel cafe we walked in raincoats to el zoologico de El Valle. The pueblo is so small that everything is within walking distance.
The Zoo was a place of zero commercialism. We were met at the gate and paid a couple bucks each. One more or less follows a path through a thick vegetation and trees which spill out to different viewing areas. Aviaries and cages of exotic birds, monkeys, tapirs, ostrich, and our two favorites: the leopards and the golden frogs, or "Ranas Doradas".
The gold frog are typical of this valley and we actually found one hopping loose around the zoo. The monkeys wanted attention and enjoyed being stroked... as did, to our surprise, one of the leopards. It was dusk when the caretakers were making their rounds to feed chickens and other smaller birds to the leopards and to the birds of prey (such as falcons and owls). So this female leopard was quite sociable and would purr and talk, stepping up onto the chicken wire cage rubbing her face along it and sticking her legs through the wider spots to be petted. One was parading around with her chicken in her mouth. Other features of the zoo included the orchid house and the Japanese reflecting ponds with fountain.
While filming the golden frogs, I was fortunate to capture video of a whole school of boys who were eager to perform a comical handclapped song.
Dinner was at the Pizzaria Pinnochio.
Early to bed and early to rise.

Jensi´s note from Guatemala

Received the following email from my dear college friend, Jensi Albright. We studied Spanish together at USM in the 90´s. She is from Edgecomb, Maine. She is now living in Portland, Oregon. Enjoy. Bruce

A Quetzaltenango,Guatemala note from Jensi on aholiday day off from 2 intensive weeks of languageschool:
I´m dizzy and overwhelmed by the last 3 hours of themost crazy parade of marching bands I never could haveeven dreamed of- Happy Independence Day Guatemala!Given this country´s painful history, I´m everinspired by the ways of celebration here. The fourthof july parades in the US can´t hold a candle to thespectacular musical feast put on by every singleschool (hundreds) in the city. Not that I´ve magicallylearned to salsa but in a frenzied crowd ofenthusiastic thousands, there´s nothing elseappropriate left to do but surrender to the music anddance in the multitude. But wait, all this today isafter the all-night event of the Independence Day Evein the Central Park of this city last night. Big Bandcompetition for hours then salsa concerts untilmidnight when everyone lets loose the Grita de LaIndependencia (Shout of Independence)and the fireworksbegin. Beer, rum, and food in copious amountsthroughout. Community event beyond compare - babieswrapped up on backs, siblings arm-in-arm, mothersinviting me over to share the family umbrella or foodor drink, and at midnight it´s only me that´s tiredout. How can it be that noone looks hungover today?I´m so absolutely grateful to be here and also be ableto communicate pretty well (!!!!) albeit slowly inSpanish with people around me everywhere here; I´mvery privileged and I owe this country a lot for whatI´ve gotten from it. In 1992 when I was here doing this same languageschool thing, I experienced the warped security ofbeing a gringa in a country where Mayan peoples werebeing summarily exterminated in the thousands daily -as civilians, guerillas, and drafted soldiers. The warwas being fought in the mountains while I was livingin the cities. But the army was everywhere then andbuses (many that I was on) were constantly beingstopped to gather up all young men aboard to bewhisked away to serve in the army. For me, those werethe only obvious signs of war. A couple of times I wasclose enough to hear the war sounds but far enoughaway and white enough not to personally experience theviolence. Fast forward to today, 8 years after Peace Accordswere signed and several years after the US Congressacknowledged the dirty hands of our CIA everywherehere in supporting the last 40 years of genocides andmilitary dictators; many amazing changes. In 1991, I was told by intelligent caring and scaredpeople not to ask about or discuss the war or theinjustices done ('en boca cerrada no entran moscas',flies don`t enter into closed mouths). One year later,Rigoberta Menchu blew the roof off the house bywinning the Nobel Prize and then established afoundation here to work on some serious change to thestatus quo. And now, damn! I spent yesterdayafternoon at a human rights conference and afterwordswent to a bookstore where the window displayed the 4volumes published by the UN Special Commission and 10volumes published by the Catholic Church documentingthe violence and openly condemning those responsiblehere. People talk about it some now and there isacknowledgement of the existence of enormous racism.Terrible things are still happening in parts of thecountry but the outright war has ended. And the USpresence -Internet and cell phones everywhere. One thing I appreciated in 1991 and it`s still truetoday is that it has been an important part of thisschool (ICA) to educate Americans and otherInternationals about the political and socioeconomiclife of the country- the war, the violence, theinequities, human rights, etc. The directors are somemore of those just plain decent people I get to knowdoing good things in the world and helping others todo more too. Speaking of the abundance of good people in my life,once again I get a good laugh at my small worldexperience of everywhere; another former Carpenter´sBoatshop apprentice arrived to this little Guatemalanlanguage school this week. (`Jensi? I´ve only heard ofone person with that name. She was an apprentice atthe boatshop I worked at but she´s from Maine notOregon...´)
Sorry, typical of my rambling thoughts - this email isall over the place. Sorry if it all comes across astoo much, I´m just everyday so swamped withinformation and experience that blows my mind but I´mtrying to process it somewhat as well as figure outwhat makes sense to share with friends and family.Also, I´m awoken every morning at 4 or 5 am by arooster from hell and so my head is addled byincomplete sleep and shocked daily by cold showers.It´s all very good for my character I think. I plan oncoming back as soon as possible to further some of theconnections I´ve made thus far and do something withmy Spanish in return for what I´ve gotten (also tocome when mangos are actually in season for godssakes!By this time next week I´ll be surfing couches and scrambling for housing while starting back to schoolin Portland, Oregon. How can that be?Egads, it´s time for lunch and starting yet anothertorrential downpour - crud. Time to race across townin the death defying traffic dodge which is my wayhome. I´m hoping you´re all warm and well. Takecare. Que les vaya bien. Jensi

What's Funny in Panama?

Wednesday (yesterday) was the canal visit. Witnessing the Panama Canal in operation was an exceptional experience. A very animated, bilingual commentator explained the functions and statistics of the Mira Flores Locks (Escluvas). Electric cars (mules) guide these gigantic ships (barcos) into the locks (escluvas) and special lock captains take temporary command of the vessels in order to assure the safety of both boat and lock. The locks are seven stories high and made of steele. The boats are piled with cargo boxes destined for the Pacific Ocean and will eventually be transferred by cranes onto railroad cars. One sight that caused us to smile was a boatsman taking time out to exercise while on the ship. He was in shorts and t-shirt doing laps along the flank of the ship, taggin each end of the ship, turning on heal to traverse back and forth.
Our GAP group hired the hotel chauffeur for the afternoon to take us to the canal and a couple of other nearby points of interest, including the Causeway (linking three islands to the mainland) consisting mostly of yacht clubs and beaches. Last night we dined en el aire libre, al Restaurante La Cascada. My roommate, Dale (22) (from Australia), and I shared a more than sufficient platter of seafood, consisting of shrimp, flounder, mussels, and oysters. We couldn't finish the mound that arrived. Steve McKay (25), our GAP guide, is a veritable giant, stretching 6'3", lanky and blond. He's from British Columbia, Canada and has been travelling with GAP for about a year and a half. He's so easy going, one would easily mistake him for a surfer dude from California. Lorraine (40) is our British gal who just finished a multi-month GAP tour of South America. She's delightful, well-traveled and witty. We, an unexpectedly small group of 4 (including guide), will eventually arrive in Costa Rica and merge into a larger group.
Today was very light. We slept in, grabbed a light lunch and headed for the Parque Natural Metropolitaneo. This is a 256 hectare park located on a hill, tucked behind the city and easily accessible via taxi. We had hoped to spot the Tati Monkey, but without success. The flora and fauna were impressive. Several exotic birds, butterflies and lizards accompanied us on our two our tropical jungle walk. The Smithsonian Institue erected a crane in the center of the park, for the purpose of exploring the jungle canopy... life on the tops of the trees.
My sopa de pollo (chicken soup) just arrived and is getting cold.
Buenas Noches.
What´s funny in Panama?
Everyone beeps their horns (day and night)! Anything from musical melodies to your ordinary toots. Panamanians use them at every opportunity... a quick beep to say "hello, I´m coming up behind you" or they annoying long beep say "hey, get out of my way/get moving!" Panamanians love to drive, and drive fast. A bit impacient behind the wheel. Taxi drivers edge their way out into the fast moving rush hour, and the other cars amazingly zig-zag around them with Mario Andreti precision.
Bicyles have license plates. You´ll see one, two, even three people riding along... and all dressed up. Father peddling and seated, wife sitting sideways on the bar, and child in the handle bars. Panamanians look immaculate when they go out. All groomed, hair slicked back, shoes shined, and white crisp shirts or neatly fitted dresses. They take great pride in their appearance.
I am surprised by the stark contrast between poor and wealthy. Many nice vehicles on the road, and yet several areas have those adobe-walled, tin roofed shacks. Nonetheless, everyone is happy and moving. Music whereever you go... on the bus, in the reastaurant, blaring from open windows in every neighborhood. Lively, spirited music accompanied by animated dj´s and silly games where you can call in and get teased by the commentator.

Upon returning from the Metropolitan National Park (the jungle within the city limits), we stopped in the downtown center for a bit of grocery shopping al Supermercado El Rey. You can find nearly everything, including unexpected products, like all the favorite shampoos from the US (Pantene 2 in 1, Fructis, and so on). As I may have mentioned, it seems prices are so randomly set, as some items vary from more to less expensive in comparison to our own commerce in the states. We grabbed our goodies and headed back to the hotel for a picnic in Lorraine´s room (she´s our GAP Adventurer from England). We sampled Chilean red wines, munched on a variety of fruits and played a domino game while listening to Dale´s cd´s (he´s our Australian GAP Adventurer with the piercings and tatoos).
Yes, we´ve had red, green, yellow, orange, and pink fruits, some luscious and exotic, others mealy and leaving unpleasant aftertastes. But that´s total immersion for you. You´ve got to take a bite of everything and hope for the best.

Hola de la Republica de Panama

Hola amigos mios. My first day out in Central America, ever! Landing in Panama late last night, I went straight to my room, relaxed, watched a little spanish cable and quickly collapsed into slumber. I took my time getting up this morning. This included a cold shower (not by choice) followed by a 10:30 lunch. I enjoyed rice and chicken and beans ($1.50). !Que comida tradicional!

Today I explored the Casco Antiguo also known as San Felipe. This is one of the two original (capital) cities, now replaced by the modern version "la Ciudad de Panama" which is located between the two old ones. The big visit of the day was a tour of the Inter-Ocean Canal Musuem (once a French hotel, turned American hotel, turned post office, turned museum). I spent a couple hours in what I thought would be a 45 minute tour... oops. But it was all so fascinating and was instrumental in helping me understand the relations between the US and Panama, as well as the presence of the French in the mid to late 1800´s. Picks, axes, sextants, and colonial tea sets tell the story of labourers and their masters. Of course, post World War One and the industrial revolution hastened the construction and completion of the canal. Aside from the commerce, both technology and health were highlights of this architectural feet. Thousands upon thousands of labourers died over the several decades it took to build the canal, on the average of one per day. More on the Canal once I´ve toured it.
The Republic of Panama continues to celebrate her 100 years of liberation from Columbia. She only recently regained control of the Canal, as the US occupation was phased out after several treaties and peace keeping efforts by President Jimmy Carter and others.

I can hardly believe it, only fifty cents per hour to use the internet cafe! Wow!! That´s great, as I will probably need to take a lot of time to get used to integrating my camera equipment with the computers... a lot of trial and error!

Essentially the day started as a Loney Planet Guide Walking Tour. I followed a seaside walkway taking me along the Bay of Panama into the Casco Antiguo, where I´ve spent the day enjoying churches, a cathedral, two museums. First the History Museum -- sadly(?), made up of only two small (but airconditioned) rooms in which I was left alone to discover artifacts such as the original flags and currency. The three floors of the Canal Museum were full of readings which I found very helpful in understanding the transformations of Panama. I hadn´t realized the French have a history here,too. They tried to build the canal first in the mid to late 1800´s in response to the Gold Rush, as it would be much easier to export and import through the Isthmus of Panama then to go across the then wild US territories. We perhaps illegally bought the rights to build the canal from the French at the turn of the twentieth century (the treaties were "rushed" and heavily in our favour). I was surprised to learn on the plane (from two Brits that are becoming ex-patriots, moving to Boquete, Panama) that the official, national currency of Panama is the US$, often called the Balboa. Thus, it has been very easy to negociate buying things here as well as participating in the venues of this impressive city. Of course, the actual cost of things is on a completely different scale. For example, I bought a banana this afternoon for five cents, and got my shoes shined for about a dollar.
A few particulars, for those wishing to know how I got here.
Before leaving in June for my Biking in Brittany, France Tour, I discovered GAP Adventures (www.gap.ca = The Great Adventures People). The tour company popped up again and again while doing an intensive internet search on touring Central America. Based out of Toronto, Canada, GAP has an impressive track record and is surprisingly affordable (for the backpacker type). This 60 day (longest trip available in Central America) costs $2,500 up front and a $500 local fee is paid to the guide upon arrival. The safety and convenience were my top reasons for modifying my initial plans of being based out of Guatemala and "doing it on my own." In fact, I was so impressed with what GAP had to offer, that I chose the "Full Central America and Mexico" tour--not wanting to miss a single thing! Again, this is a two month tour. I will end in Mexico City where I will stay and study for a month (more on that and how I met my host family at a later time).
I then went on to do an equally intensive internet search for affordable airfare (hey, this sabbatical pays but 1/2 salary--and I´ve got a mortgage and car payment!). I would need a flight into Central America and a separate flight out of Mexico (North America, for those who need a geography reminder). I discovered www.intratours.com, who was happy to book an extremely economical flight on a major carrier. I flew Portland-Atlanta-Panama via Delta Airlines for just $270! My return trip was booked with www.expedia.com, routing thru Mexico-Houston-Boston for just $230! This is a good time to remind you that this blog is meant to be a tool for Falmouth students and the greater community to understand that the world is quite accessible. My trip will likely have extravagant adventures, but it will by no means be exorbitant in the financial sense. Access to the world is yours if you remain open to creative planning and have a willingness to truly let go of your culturally imprinted expectations that may be causing mental and/or physical barriers, in what would otherwise be opportunities for international travel.
It´s getting dark already, so I have to make my way back. Perhaps I´ll take a taxi.
Tomorrow I will meet the members of GAP. I am excited to be meeting my guide for the next two months, in charge of getting the group through all of Central America plus Mexico by mid-November. I know he is already at the hotel (like me, having arrived a couple days before the tour), but I´ve been out exploring all day, so haven´t been introduced as yet. It´s been raining intermittently today and it seems to be humid day and night. I should expect more of this tropical weather for the duration of the trip. I suspect I´ll either tour the Panama Canal tomorrow or go to the ruins of the first of the two old Panama Cities, Panama Viejo.
In closing, please forgive any type-o´s and spelling blunders.
Expression for the day: La vida es tan corta, se tiene que decir "¡como no?" = Life´s too short, you gotta say, "why not?"
Besos a todos,
B-Carv