It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was my trip to Panama.
Chapter I - Panama City
When we first arrived at our hostel in Casco Viejo (the old city), we really thought we were in trouble. Garbage cans on fire, prostitutes, dark streets, etc. Our first action upon arrival to our hostel was to find a new hostel. They were all booked, so we sucked it up, and it turned out Casco Viejo is actually a lovely part of town, despite its run-down appearance.
Off to Carnival in Panama City. It was like an endless Bourbon Street with less beads'n'boobs, but more kids shooting confetti at Adam. There were 50 cent beers, and a lot of the song "Alguna Vez" (also remixes of "Alguna Vez") so that was good, but I think Adam and I were out of place. We felt at home for a moment when we heard "Gasolina" blaring over the speakers. It wasn't until the next day that we realized wehad actually been hearing the song live, and had just attended a Daddy Yankee concert.
I was also quickly learning that I didn't know any espa..ol. My 9th grade Spanish teacher Ms. Liu would be very disappointed. But luckily, Adam took 6 years and he got us around for the most part. I mostly handled any car noises or hand gestures.
The next day was kind of a bust. We tried to find a beach, and failed (but managed to get sunburnt anyway). When we realized we weren't going to make it to the beach, we decided to check out this canal everyone was talking about. Now, I have nothing against the Panama Canal; it seems like a great way to transport goods from the West Indies to California, and vice versa. But it is not interesting to watch. At all. Especially since, at the Miraflores Locks, there's a building obstructing the view of one of the 2 passageways, so after you wait an hour for a ship to come through, there's a 50% chance you won't see it… Soooo… Yeah, that's the Panama Canal.
At night we decided it might be worth it to spend upwards of 75 cents per beer to avoid the raggaeton (sp?) at Carnival. So we went out looking for the Panamanian nightlife, only to find that during Carnival, there is no other Panamanian nightlife. We refused to give up, and picked a bar at random from the Lonely Planet guide, and hoped it would be open. It was, and we ended up making new friends and staying out super-late. Our new amigas Chelly and Sandra were willing to put up with our poquito espa..ol, and invited us to come to the beach with them.
Chapter II: Anton
So the next day we met Chelly and Sandra at the bus station, and went to Anton. Anton is a small Pueblo where there are real-live caballeros (cowboys) who work in the mountains, and gallop around the town. From Anton, they took us to Carnival in Penonome. Carnival was way more fun in a small town. Hoses being sprayed at the crowd, some live music (though it was unfortunately not Daddy Yankee), and young boys with waterguns spraying whomever they pleased (busty women). I'm guessing this is the main advantage to growing up in Panama. Sufficiently soaked in water and beer, we headed to a small empty beach, for swimming and sunburning. Solid day in small-town Panama.
Chapter III: Bocas Del Toro (mouths of the bull)
Most intense flight ever. Propeller plane with an open cockpit. I was sitting front-row center, so I had full view of the controls and the front window. I recommend it. Our trip to Bocas started out with some rain, which worried me a bit, because they can have week-long rainy stints and we were planning on staying there 5 days. Because it was drizzly, we decided not to venture off the island, and instead went to a small nearby beach called Caba..a. By the time we learned [the hard way] why they nicknamed Caba..a "Sand Fly Beach", it was beautiful out, but too late to hit another a beach. Better luck tomorrow.
The next day was awesome. Took a guided tour (a guy in a boat dropping us off places, but not talking to us). Fantastic swimming and sunburning at Red Frog Beach, and snorkeled for the first time ever at Coral Kay. Also saw lots of dolphins. The nightlife in Bocas was pretty lame. The bar in our hostel was like a party in Tucson, and the other bars played a little too much Alguna Vez. It gave Adam a chance to certify himself as "el rey de bailar" (The King of Dancing), but I don't think it was really our scene. That's okay - it meant less hangovers.
The next days included more snorkeling, meeting 2 monkeys, making a new Brazillian BFF (Rafael or Raffi, which Adam thinks sounds like a girl's name, but I prefer it), boat rides, and 5 nights in a row of the best chicken hamburguesa I've ever had. ¿What does that Argentenian puts in those things? Probably pseudoephedrine (the active ingredient in methamphetamine). Drank a lot of coconut milk, and a lot of coconut milk with rum mixed in. Incidentally, Abuelo – the rum of choice out there, and also the word for grandpa – is terrific. Also a lot of daiquiris. And 50 cent beers. Pi..a colada's too. We went to a "jungle" which was really some guy tricking us into paying him $10 a piece to take us through the woods in his backyard. But Adam got a picture of the guy pissing, so I guess it was worth it.
For the most part, Bocas Del Toro was an amazing, relaxing experience…
UNTIL…
Chapter IV: The Trip from Hell
On Wednesday or Thursday, Adam lost his wallet. But then like 2 hours later, he found it. It was a stressful couple hours – I don't know whether to count it in the Bocas Del Toro chapter, or as part of the trip from hell. The trip from hell really began on Friday.
So people had told us that Wizared beach was a nice place to visit, swim, and walk around. So what better way to spend our last full day in Bocas Del Toro? ¿Right? So a guy in a boat charges us $10 a piece to get there. Then, once we get there, he says he cant take the boat up to the beach, so he drops us off in the middle of the water. This was a little unexpected/crazy/adventurous – we decided "what the heck", and jumped out. Left our flip-flops, bugspray, and my sunglasses in the boat – the guy seemed honest enough. We swim to shore without incident. It was more difficult than we expected, but we are strapping young men. We set up shop on the beach for a few minutes, and go for a dip. Raffi has his board, so he's off doing god-knows-what when Adam and I realized that we were further from the beach than expected. We start swimming back towards the beach not noticing that the undertow is actually pushing us away. No matter what we do, we can't get closer. We look at eachother and agree that we're "not down" with these waves. Then we start pushing towards the shore. We were calling for help, and the people on the beach heard us, but there was nothing they could do because they didn't feel like drowning either… It took probably between 10 to 20 minutes to get back. I think Adam and I grew superstrength to fight the waves, or just got lucky, because eventually we made it back. Scariest moment of our lives, but we both made it unscathed, and glad to be alive.
Anyway, it turned out there's a footpath that *everyone* knows is the better way to get to the beach, and then you pay a watertaxi only $2 to get back. So flip-flops, bugspray, and nice polarized Arnette sunglasses be damned, we weren't going back with that cockgobbler boat-driver. We walked barefoot through the woods, through horseshit and poison oak/ivy/etc, and eventually made it to a boat and back to the hostel.
We were alive. Time to celebrate with a nice dinner, and then a consequential 48 hours of digestive hell. The one time I envy Adam for not liking the crap food that I love so much. All of Saturday, including our propeller flight back to Panama City, I was in pretty bad shape. By the night-time, I wasn't sure if I would make it home before going to a doctor. Luckily, thanks to Sunday morning's continental breakfast (pepto, antibiotics, and a piece of toast), I made it through the most turbulent and scary flight I've ever been on (El Salvador to JFK, through snow) without incident. Also, I am becoming very good at Sudoku. Of course, on the flight, I developed the long-overdue skin-rash from our sandal-and-bugspray-free journey through the woods, and inexplicably a series of massive mosquito bites, but I didn't care. I was just happy to be back en Los Estados Unidos.
Epilogue
First of all, the doctor tells me I'm totally fine. So stop worrying. You're such a worrier.
I learned a lot on this trip. For instance, from now on I don't swim in any water unless I see both senior citizens and babies in the water. Also, now I start all my sentences with "mira".
Long story short, I went on a trip for rest and relaxation, and yesterday I was prescribes Zanex to calm me down from the experience. But I'm not letting chapter IV get me down. It was still a great trip, and I'm glad I went. But next trip I go on might be to the Jersey shore.
Congratulations to those of you who made it to the end of this blog entry, possibly the longest thing I have ever written.
Update (12/7/07): Check out Panama's new tourism campaign. So true. I wonder whether they're referring to the stomach bug or the irrational fear of water.
