Archive for September, 2010
Posted on September 20, 2010 by jason
We spent a pretty uneventful night in David and said goodbye to our new friends Shane and Shana before taking off for the beaches again. This time it was back down to the Pacific Ocean at Las Lajas.
There really isn’t much here other than a couple of restaurants that are only open occasionally and a few cabinas. This is a good thing, because this meant we had the place to ourselves most of the time.
After scouting out all the options, we found that one of the restaurants would let us camp on the beach for free if we bought some drinks there. One ice-cold Balboa beer costs $0.75. For a beach bar, that’s got to be some kind of record for us. We popped the top right there and decided to stay a while.
We found a huge piece of bamboo washed ashore and made our own coconut bonker. It worked like a champ until we broke it.
When we first pulled up we didn’t notice the EuroVan parked under the palm tree. Later, Lars and a Jeni appeared and we became fast friends. They’re from Denmark and have already spent the past 18 months driving up South America. They just entered Panama and are working their way north. Needless to say, we had plenty to talk about.
We spent a few days here chatting and trading information. Miraculously, this bar also had wi-fi that they didn’t mind sharing. Boondocking on the beach with free wi-fi and cheap cold beer nearby? How convenient is that?
Always bring tweezers.
After a few too many bumpy and rocky roads, it’s finally time to find a muffler guy.
When the tide goes out, it REALLY goes out.
Posted on September 19, 2010 by angela
In Bocas del Toro, we had met a cool couple from Houston. Shane and Shana were traveling Panama on their 10-day vacation and we’re trying to figure out where to go next. We told them we were heading off to Boquete the next day, and offered them a ride. So again, we were glad to have some passengers and easily fit 5 in the bus.
Boquete was named in some retirement publication as a great place for Americans, so we were half-expecting a fully Americanized mountain town. But, apparently the gringos live out of town in giant houses with gardeners, housekeepers and chefs. In town, it still looked like Central America. Also, a few weeks ago there had been a big flood and the town was still cleaning up from that. The river was raging.
There wasn’t much to do in town, but lots of adventure trips you could book if you had the money. Whitewater rafting and canopy tours weren’t on our wish list this time, so we took a few day trips. We found a natural hot spring about 45 minutes away. The landowners had a pet monkey. We also tried to hike to a waterfall, but I think we got the wrong trail.
Remember this guy, who said every gringo in Costa Rica was a pedophile, druggie or low-life? Well, we’re starting to think he’s on to something, except I think they’ve moved on to Panama.
Back in Bocas, we heard the tale of an America recently arrested for multiple murders. He chose victims that no one would report missing (likely on-the-run) and transferred the paperwork of their possessions or businesses to himself. That was, until his last victim, a well-known American business woman in the area. His capture had happened a few weeks before our visit, but it was still big news there.
Here in Boquete, we arrived at our hostel at the same time as the owner from Florida. Clearly there was some tension at the hotel, but we blew it off as the usual Panamanian service. The next night, while we watched football and made sandwiches in the closed kitchen, we got to chatting with the owner and heard quite a tale.
A few years ago, the river flooded and did a lot of damage to the area. The owner worked for 2 months trying to repair the damage. Alongside him, a new friend Dennis worked day and night. At the end of this, the owner entrusted Dennis with managing his hostel while he took his family back to Florida to deal with the damage from the latest hurricane there.
For 2 years, Dennis had made the deposits into the bank account, though the owner suspected there was a lot of money he wasn’t depositing. Busy with the repairs of several rental houses in Key West, he let it slide as the mortgage was paid for and the reviews on TripAdvisor and the like were good.
Cut to a week ago, when he gets an email from a neighbor of the hostel. Dennis had been taken into custody by US Marshals 4 days before. He was charged with skipping bail while waiting on a retrial for a sex with a minor charge (he’d been in jail for this before, and for some reason after 4 years of a 45 year second sentence, they let him out to await a retrial). He skipped bail and fled the country, worked in Costa Rica a while, then moved on to Panama.
Dennis was featured on America’s Most Wanted (under his real name) and a couple from Wisconsin who’d stayed at the hostel tipped off the police. Dennis was dating a young Panamanian girl who also worked at the hostel, but failed to call the owner when he was arrested. She had also gotten her brother on staff as a watchman and her mother working in the kitchen. The kitchen was small, in the back of the hostel and was meant to only serve guests. Dennis turned it into a gringo hang out where old white men would come with their young local girlfriends for breakfast, then stay all day getting drunk. In fact, when we checked in their was an old man stumbling drunk around the lobby. He was yelling ‘Happy Birthday’, so I just figured he’d imbibed a bit too much at a party there, but apparently that’s what he yells everyday when he’s drunk at 4 pm.
The owner closed the restaurant first thing and fired the staff. We got to witness him telling several clients to leave, and the restaurant would be opening for hotel guest only. Every now and then some retiree would walk in to meet his ‘girlfriend’ and was told to beat it. They looked lost.
The owner was quite embarrassed by the shenanigans, and had apologized to all the neighbors and was set to talk to the mayor. He’d lived there for a few years, and had helped coach and sponsor the local little league team, so I think he’s pretty well-loved in the community. Hence, I didn’t want to give his name or the hostel name in the story. Rest-assured, by this time, it is a fine place to stay! And what a great story we heard!
Posted on September 17, 2010 by angela
Well, the time has come for us to put in a little time on some formal education for the kid.
Alphabet in the sand, but Bode still refuses to write lower case. He says he doesn’t like those little letters. He doesn’t care when I say it will look like he’s screaming when he writes. He says he is screaming when he writes.
We’re learning lots about the fish and wildlife.
Physical Education credit, too.
Working with tools. Enjoying nature and having fun!
Posted on September 16, 2010 by jason
We took the colectivo back to Playa del Drago – our second trip to this beach. This time, we hiked about half an hour and found the starfish. In just a couple feet of water, large starfish lay in crystal clear water. A great place to hang and snorkel. Today’s road school was learning all we could about sea stars–they live 35 years!
The hike here involves wading through some mangroves, but not all that tough. Definitely worth the effort.
Back in Bocas Town, we spent more time wandering around and generally taking it easy. This is a simple town to be a tourist. There’s even some pretty good Indian food (the first we’ve seen since… San Diego?) and sushi.
It can be a pretty place if you look hard enough, but it is still seedy. Everyone here is a hustler. If you want something, someone will tell you they can get it. Guys pedal by on bikes offering cocaine and weed under their breath.
We heard a few stories about people dealing with these guys and getting left somewhere without a boat ride home, having them take the money and ride off and never see them again, getting sold old banana leaves instead of weed (my favorite). The hustling can get old – especially since they are constantly buzzing around. You will utter the phrase “No, I don’t want a water taxi or a place to stay” many times.
Still, it’s nice here if you can ignore all that. The beaches make it worth it.
Posted on September 15, 2010 by angela
We decided to go on an all day snorkel trip that would take us to 2 reefs and the Cayos Zapitillos islands–a beautiful beach with more snorkeling. At $25 bucks each for the adults, it seemed a bargain, but with the entrance fees to the Cayos park and a stop a island restaurant, it cost us each another $25. It was still worth it to get to these amazing islands. Bode is a snorkeling fiend, and this day we saw moray eels, starfish, parrot fish, and thousands of others.
I’m amazed at how long Bode is willing to snorkel and it is definitely one of my favorite mother-son activities.
After 3 days, Dougie left us for the bright lights of Paris. We will definitely miss him. Instead of leaving Bocas as well, we decided to stick around a day and recover from 6 straight weeks of visitors.
Bode continues to make friends every day. He also learned how to hand-line and jump from boat to boat at the marina chasing sergeant majors. “Dad, can we go fishing?” is now in his queue of daily requests.
We packed for a couple days on the island, but ended up staying longer. Because we only packed what was clean, this didn’t exactly mean we had a full 2 days of clothes. That meant 3 trips to the lavanderia. Oh well, for $4 Don Pardo would wash, dry and fold one load. His English was pretty good, but I’m pretty sure he was never the SNL announcer.
Posted on September 13, 2010 by angela
We parked Red Beard at the fire station in Almirate ($3 USD/day) and packed up clothes for a couple days. Or, I should say we packed the only clean clothes we had and left the dirty laundry to fester in the bus. We hopped on a water taxi ($4 USD) and headed to Bocas del Toro.
Bocas Town is pretty much a party place, so we had to look at several hotels and hostels before we found something suitable. Our criteria isn’t high, but suitable for children is something we’re striving for, and because of this we had to pass on several. Some actually turned us away because of the kid. The backpacker party culture here means that drugs are everywhere.
Still, insects were our biggest concern. Doug and I had been eaten alive by mosquitoes and sand flies and we were keen on window screens, or even better, air-conditioning.
Finally, we found a place that fit the bill, although the service seemed to be lacking. Coming from tourist-friendly Costa Rica, Panama was somewhat a shock. Requests for the internet code, an extra towel and more toilet paper were all met with a scowl. “But we only have a little bit of toilet paper! It won’t last until morning,” Doug pleaded. They deliberately considered his request and slowly acquiesced.
The other knock on Bocas Town is that although it’s on an island, there is no beach in town. There are fantastic beaches all around, but they require a bus trip, a water taxi or a tour.
Posted on September 10, 2010 by jason
I bet you weren’t expecting that palindrome, were you?
Next up was the border crossing into Panama. I’ve heard this particular border was fairly simple and I wouldn’t have to worry about corruption that plagues other crossings in Latin America. This was correct, but most folks cross the border in the south on the gleaming new Pan-Am highway. We decided to use the only other border crossing there is – in the north near Sixaloa.
It turns out this one is a challenge because of geography. This is a little-used crossing that consists of a train bridge that was originally constructed by the United Fruit Company for transporting banana crops to the ports. Now, the train tracks are closed and planks have been nailed on either side of the rails. It’s a road.
Like all border areas we’ve seen, the road turns to absolute shit about 10 km from the border and you have to bounce your way up to la frontera. No biggie. Once you get there, it’s the usual scene, but actually fairly quiet as far as borders go. You pull over and park and walk up to the Costa Rica immigration office and fill out some paperwork to exit the country (the same form you filled out to enter) and you get stamped out of Costa Rica. Same goes for the vehicle papers at a desk a few meters away. Other than a few questions about where you’re going and when you’re returning to Costa Rica, it’s pretty painless and costs nothing.
Next is the more difficult part. Crossing the bridge.
No one – even the local police milling about – actually control the traffic on the bridge. it’s a free-for-all. People are everywhere and there is absolutely no telling if someone is coming the other direction. We asked the police if we could cross and they said yes. We made it maybe 50 meters onto the bridge before we saw a huge banana truck coming right at us. Fortunately, everything moves really slow and the continual stream of pedestrians limit the speed.
Since there’s no way I was going to win a game of chicken with a banana truck, I throw it into reverse and back up – careful not to run anyone over – back off the bridge and wait. And wait. Things move slow.
We try again, but the same thing happens and we back off the bridge again. The bystanders are indifferent. We send Doug out ahead to scout out our chance and he returns with the news of more trucks coming. We wait some more and eventually he gives us the thumbs up to try again.
When we get to the other side, there are a few official looking people who want know what we are up to. Oh, and we get fumigated – with the windows down. I’m sure the guy with the switch had a good laugh over that one. I probably won’t get any mosquito bites on my left arm for a week.
I actually have to pay $3 USD for getting sprayed and then another $1 USD each for ‘stickers’ for the passport (Bode didn’t have to pay.) Then we get the actual passport stamps and I forget if we had to pay anything. I had a ‘helper’ guy buzzing around me trying to sell his services for the vehicle permisso and insisted I would be waiting all day without his help. I declined.
I give my title, license, passport and some photocopies to the guy at the vehicle window and he is extremely helpful. He actually gets up and walks me 100 m down to the insurance office (on the left, across the footbridge, and left again at the end of the footbridge.) I think we paid $13 USD for a month of mandatory insurance and went back to the vehicle office where I went inside and the official filled out everything. All I had to do was sign my name.
Easy, but still about and hour and a half for the whole crossing. Oh, and the official currency is the mightly USD, so no more conversions for a while.
The entire time, Angela and Bode waited in the car (we drove down off the train tracks and parked nearby) while local kids pawed all over the bus.
A few miles down the road, we realize something different about Panama. The roads are paved – all of them. We used to be able to navigate by road condition, but here they are all nicely paved… even the side roads. It’s confusing.
Naturally, we get lost and for the first time ever in my life I get stopped by bananas crossing the road. We take this as a bad sign and turn around and eventually some firemen point us in the right direction. We didn’t even have to ask – they took one look at us and pointed us down the road.
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