Bocas or Bust

After a short week in Costa Rica, it’s time to head begin our journey into Panama. It wouldn’t be a proper send off if we weren’t currently sitting in inexplicable traffic within 5 minutes of climbing into the minibus. As there’s not much scenery to observe on this dusty stretch of road, I catch myself eavesdropping on some travelers from Minsk chatting with another group they must have just met. One guy is giving the couple some serious misinformation about scuba diving, and I have to keep myself from rudely interrupting. Nobody likes that person. Time for headphones!

The driver seems to have not one, not two, but three cell phones. He’s answering one while he hangs up with the other, taking photos of documents in his vehicle and sensing them to various people. My Spanish isn’t yet good enough to follow what he’s juggling here. At this point I notice the device holder that is attached to the front window has a fun background- a scantily clad white woman in American flag lingerie. Classy.

As we begin to move again, it strikes me how much trash is strewn throughout the countryside. I’m not sure I’ve I have subconsciously blocked out the litter from when I was in the Guanacaste area back in 2014, but I don’t recall it being nearly this bad. Dense, lush jungle, breathtaking beaches, and majestic waterfalls are made significantly less beautiful by mass amounts of garbage strewn about carelessly everywhere you look. This country is often touted as being extremely “green” and energy efficient, and yet, I am just not seeing the environmental efforts on this part of the trip. Each place we’ve stayed has recycling bins, but they don’t seem to be in use by locals. Styrofoam to go containers are the norm, and plastic bags are given out with groceries even more liberally than in Alaska. I recently read an article written by an expat here, talking about the mass use of pesticides.l, specifically ones that have been banned in other countries. I have often been under the impression that this was not the case. An anicdote from said article stated that he once watched a man who was spraying the roadside with DHT playfully hose down a group of school children and laugh.

Another thing I have noticed here, like in many other rapidly developed countries, there is a huge juxtaposition between technological advances and doing things like the dark ages. We just came to a complete stop that I thought was a railroad crossing, but instead was an above-road track. Along comes a boy in a huge rubber apron and heavy boots, with a line strapped around his chest. There is a pulley attached to the line and 10 huge sacks full of what looks like grain slowly snake behind him. It’s probably 90 degrees at 9:30 this morning, and he looks utterly miserable. I’ve been a lot of places in the world, and I’ve never seen materials transported in quite this manner. As we get further down the road, I realize this is the standard method of transport for bananas, too! Apparently they are called banana crossings. The border crossing was relatively painless, minus an extra-sweaty moment when I wasn’t sure the “proof of departure from Panama” was going to cut it, as technically our flights just go to the Panamanian border in December, not leaving the country. Luckily enough, the tiny airline we bought tickets from has them in such vague language the customs agents weren’t seem to able to decipher where we were flying to.. win. [Insert nervous laughter..] Pay an exit fee in Costa Rica, walk across a bridge.. and boom! Bienvenidos à Panama!

Arriving by bus in Almirante, we were quickly crammed into a speedboat to Bocas Town. It was pretty choppy and we were flying over the waves – I watched some tourists faces panic a few times. I was slightly uncomfortable, and then here is Grant cracking a beer. Of course!

Bocas Town is all pastel buildings on stilts over the water, lots of little restaurants boasting (spendy!) fresh caught seafood and cocktails. After a struggle to find a place we would be allowed to leave our bags, we set off for some food and a drink. Half priced margaritas? Yaaas, girl.

At 5:30 our caretaker, Leo, picked us and a Spanish couple up to head out to Coco Vivo. Almost there!

Our arrival was smooth and we checked into our little fairy house, greeted by a lovely German couple who volunteers here, and the cook, a darling quirky Canadian woman who reminds me of one of my favorite aunts. It happened to be the German girl’s birthday, and after a fabulous dinner, she got a surprise birthday cake. I lucked out with some birthday celebrations, too! The evening ended with one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen – massive amounts of phosphorescent plankton light the waters here at night. We sat on the dock, drinks in hand, occasionally jumping up and down to watch the water sparkle. It was one of the most magical moments I’ve ever had – ahh, if only we could have gotten a photo. We were awakened in the evening by a horrible scratching sound, both of us a bit frightened, as we are set with the ocean on one side and the vast jungle on the other… We gradually realized it was the two neighborhood dogs, just looking for a cuddle. As I write this last bit, I’m laying in a hammock on the dock.. soaking up every lazy ounce of my 26th birthday. We spent the morning splashing around, doing a bit of snorkeling, and stuffing our faces. This is the life!