We ate the entire box of leftover fried rice while on the bus
Wednesday we made our way from David to where we currently reside, Archipiélago de Bocas Del Toro. Our long journey began smoothly, boarding a minibus that took us the 4.5 hours to Almirante, the port town on the mainland. This is where the traveling got dicey, and we had to play the fine line between getting hustled and offending locals. We dodged the taxi driver offering a ride to the dock and began to walk in the direction of the water. A man on a bike met us halfway, seemingly kind to lead us in the right direction and then mentioning he worked for the water taxi and would get us across to the islands. One of the challenges we encounter is not knowing the true value of items or services; in Panama, food is significantly cheaper than in Costa Rica but souvenirs are marginally more expensive. We can't rely on past experience in other countries to know the value of a 30 minute boat ride since everything changes across the border. Therefore, we place our trust in the Lonely Planet travel guide more often than we'd like. Assuming the price would be $4/person as LP stated, the biker's offer of $6 was quickly rejected. He counter offered with $5 and I confidently stood my ground at $4. Without either side budging, we walked away and found the same offer from the next biker. Still sure we were getting hustled, we inquired at the companies and were shocked when they both boldly stated $6, no room for negotiations. We hung our heads and began the walk of shame in the direction of the bikers, realizing they made us the best offer and we, trying to be budget conscious and firm, had lost. Unable to locate either, we settled with one of the companies and waited for the next boat. As our baggage was being loaded before take-off, the second biker took my pack to place it in the boat and said "see babe, told you." Stupid LP.
The feelings of being a tourist and questioning who to trust continued once we reached the islands of Bocas. The bustling, touristy town of Bocas Del Toro is lined with hostels all along the main drag. We referred to a map, had a few locals make recommendations in passing, and began in the direction of the first hostel. On our way to the second, a local on a bike again latched on, informing us that his hotel had the best price and the one we were about to walk in to was very expensive. He was right about Salinas, very expensive, so we continued towards the third option we had settled on. He rode alongside us, quoting our next one at $30 (and his at $20), pointing out the fire station and trucks as we passed, and proceeded to walk in to the entrance of Hotel Las Brisas with us. We inquired at the front desk and were following the receptionist for a tour when I turned to make sure he wasn't planning to come with us. Thankfully, he seemed to be content waiting for us in the lobby. Using our typical plea for a discount with booking multiple nights, we secured a room for 3 nights at $24/night and although he was still in the lobby when we returned, we fortunately haven't seen him again.
I have significantly mixed reviews about our current lodgings at Hotel Las Brisas. Our room is average; the white walls are dirty with cords and pipes in interesting places, and there isn't much character. The important things, however: the AC works perfectly, the bed is just the right firmness and the sheets are the best we've had in a year, as they may be part silk. The room across the hall doesn't have a window in it (and is a few dollars cheaper because of this) but there's a room at the end of our hallway that's huge with wonderful natural lighting and a gorgeous deck overhanging the water. There is a communal deck on the main floor with an expansive view of the other islands, the Carribean, and multiple anchored sailboats. Ideal for eating or jumping off of, the deck is perfect with the exception of the men that will constantly try to sell you tours on their boat as you're cramming your breakfast into your mouth. There is also a communal kitchen, which is where this hotel loses most of its points. Consisting of a 4 burner stove (2.5 work), a toaster oven, a sink and a fridge that hasn't been wiped out in months, this may be the most dissapointing kitchen yet. Half of the pots and pans don't have handles, which wouldn't be terrible except that there are no pot holders or rags in sight, forcing you to get creative with your clothes or burn yourself. The pans are horrible; two attempts at pancakes and eggs failed so miserably that we agreed we would only make food that could be boiled in a pot from then forward. And when the one lighter wouldn't work and I took it to the front desk to ask if they had another, the gal told me I'd have to go buy one myself.
For these reasons, we have cooked half our meals and eaten the others out. Our first night in Bocas Del Toro, we roamed the streets looking for the right food. We settled on a fancy looking restaurant that had a board out front advertising Wednesday Specials and included pepperoni pizza for $7. We inquired if this could feed two and were given an honest answer of maybe, so we took a seat and looked at the full menu. Realizing all their pizzas were $7 and included pizzas more filling than simply pepperoni, we ordered a perfect sized pizza and were content, although unsure what our other food options would be. Luckily, over the next few days, we spotted many local kitchens that carry the typical full plate of meat, rice and lentils for under $5.
Thursday and Friday were quiet days, consisting of inspecting our new town and relaxing. The island we are staying on is Isla Colón, one of six densely forested islands dotting the Carribean. The islands are Panama's principal tourist draw, primarily for surfers or those seeking a tropical vacation. Isla Colón is the most populated and developed of the six islands, and the southern tip is where Bocas Del Toro town, or Bocas, is found. Colorful and relaxed with a hint of a party scene, tourism is the obvious market in this community of West Indians, Latinos and resident Gringos. Besides exploring this island, our intentions were to meander to neighboring islands and possibly investigate the waters. Friday we discussed and decided we'd stay three more nights in our current set up, and on Saturday we'd pay money for a tour.
As expected, a boat picked us up on our dock at 9:30 Saturday morning. After a series of events, we eventually were placed in a full boat with 15 other people and our guide that we booked with waved goodbye from his dock. Our assumption is we were pawned to another company to fill a boat. For the next 6.5 hours, we were annoyingly entertained. For $25/person, we booked a tour to spend (according to our guide that sold us) 3 hours snorkeling on the Zapatillas Islands, 2 hours snorkeling Coral Island, and three photo-op stops for dolphins, starfish and sloths. Under the boats cover due to the heavy rain, we sped towards Dolphin Bay for our first stop. Although I like to think of myself as adventurous and brave, there are moments when I realize that as the numbers increase in the box I check for "age," certain activities leave me more frightened than they once did. Riding in this man's boat was no exception. His boat had two propeller motors compared to everyone else's single motor and as soon as another boat would begin to catch up to him, he would slide the controls as far forward as possible and our boat would fly across the water. I sat white knuckled for the 30 minute ride and each time he turned the boat quickly, the girls behind me would scream and squeal and I wanted to yell "stop encouraging him!" but I don't know how to say encourage in Spanish.
We spent 10 minutes watching the dolphins fins break surface with the water. I was content to see the beautiful creatures, but it felt so invasive to be one of six boats that would immediately move closer than is probably legal in the states as soon as the dolphin was spotted. Our next stop was a dock with a restaurant attached, where we were informed we could use the bathroom and pre-order lunch. Since it had only been 45 minutes and we weren't informed about lunch, we awkwardly stood under the shelter from the rain.
Zapatillas islands was next on the list and was rumored to be the best beach in the Bocas. Our main purpose for this guided trip was to snorkel, and we had high hopes for Zapatillas. Once we disembarked from the boat onto the white sand, undeveloped beach, the heavens opened and the rain poured. All from our boat ran behind the guide through thick coconut trees which filled the middle of the island, until we arrived to a shelter. People abandoned their soaked clothes and then took a seat on their coolers and popped open a beer. Micah and I grabbed our snorkel gear and ran barefoot towards the water, under the rain that felt as strong as a waterfall. For the next 2.5 hours, we made our way around a portion of the islands water, never seeing more than abused, colorless coral and a few fish. The sun blessed us the second hour we were on the island, and we happily sat in the sand and hiked to see everything it had to offer.
We returned to the lunch spot and jealously watched others eat mounds of fresh seafood. Starting to worry about the time and all that we believed was still on the itinerary, the guide assured us we'd leave in 25 minutes after everyone ate their $20 plates of food. He informed us that our next snorkeling spot was close by, visible from the deck we were currently sitting on. And where we continued sitting for the next hour. After a group of older ladies and presumably a few daughters were done eating, they waddled their way over to the lounge chairs on the deck to rest their full bellies. We watched our guide take their money to pay their bill, and possibly even get them a drink. The driver waved us over to the boat and we were relieved to finally be on our way!! Only four of us got in the boat, and we secretly smiled to be leaving the lazy inconsiderate bunch. Except seconds later, our boat pulled up next to the dock where they were strewn, trying to convince them to join us. Half of them obliged, the other half were told we'd pick them up after. Finally, we were on our way to Coral Island.... which was not an island but simply a section marked with a buoy, only 100 yds from the deck where we just sat for over an hour. We probably could have swam there. Either way, the snorkeling was fabulous, with beautiful colorful coral and multitudes of fish, along with the spotting of a large jellyfish. After 20 minutes, we were beckoned back to the boat by the others (only one other guy snorkeled more than 5 ft away from the boat with us) and although it wasn't two hours, we were happy with what we'd seen. We made a quick stop at the sloth island and then sped like a demon back to town.
Jellyfish
Saturday evening, Halloween, there were more people than typical on the streets but few costumes. We heard about a hostel having a party but deep down, knew we were too old. That and, for the fifth time this trip, one of us has been medically advised to avoid alcohol as a result of antibiotics. A few days earlier, we took an old prescription I had been written for my infected bug bite and purchased the same antibiotics at a pharmacy, although this time for Micah. Although we've both had multiple bites and lumps that required attentive care, this is his first that required medicine. The infected bug bite on his chest has reacted well to the medicine and is on the mend; it should leave a nice, manly scar. Instead of partying and drinking with the youngsters, Saturday evening we enjoyed a live drum performance in the gazebo in central park, complete with throwing the drum around their bodies.
On the other side of Isla Colón is Bocas Del Drago beach, noted as the best beach on the island with good swimming and snorkeling. After breakfast at a local kitchen on Sunday morning, we rode the 16km in a shuttle van through the center of the island and then walked 15 minutes to Starfish beach, famous, obviously, for starfish. For every one starfish we spotted, there were 10 restaurant stands, 8 tables full of trinkets, 12 boats, 1 party boat with a slide and blaring "Juicy" by Notorious B.I.G. and 150 people. (We only saw 1 starfish). Before we gave up on Starfish beach and headed back to the deserted beaches we saw along the way, we decided to spend 5 minutes in the water. In that five minutes, I felt a sharp sting across my thigh and then opposite leg. Knowing that whip-like sensation too well, I yelped and told Micah that I was stung and we ran out of the water. Ironically, we realized it was one year ago to the date that we were frolicking in the waters of Oahu when I was stung by a Portuguese Man O'War. We hadn't seen the creature this time, but the feeling was similar enough and within minutes, there were multiple small red lines beginning to welt from where the tentacles came in contact with my flesh. I'm proud to say this is actually a feeling you get used to and it barely hurt, for the third sting I've experienced in my life.
With less water traffic, we headed back down the path to the deserted parts of the beach. Both donning snorkeling gear, Micah immediately spotted a replica of the animal that must have stung me. By the time I got to the spot, it was no where to be seen, so we continued the search. Within two minutes, we spotted three jellyfish, thus terminating our time in the water. Micah cursed the Caribbean waters and the dangerous animals a bit and we instead soaked up the sun while sitting in the sand.
Micah made beef stew for dinner last night and we enjoyed it from our communal deck. There was an older gentleman (63 years old) Skyping with a friend while we ate and then engaged us in conversation. He was a Canadian who has lived intermittently in Nicaragua with his wife for the past 12 years. He asked us a bit about ourselves but never seemed to completely want the answer, too anxious to jump on to the next story. He bragged a bit about being the first Gringo to be offered property on Little Corn Island and described his beautiful house in San Juan Del Sur. Then he asked us questions again, identical to questions we answered less than 5 minutes earlier. Unsure if he was bad listener or had memory issues, we politely ended the conversation and left. This morning, his wife and he were on the deck speaking with a local. We learned that sadly, after 12 years of traveling here, neither he or his wife speak any Spanish but instead, speak English very slooooowwwwwlllllly and LOUDLY to those who don't also speak English. Later in the day, we crossed paths again and he asked us where we were from, likely not remembering our conversation from last night. We spoke for a minute, we believe he remembered some bits of the conversation, and then we excused ourselves.
Today, Monday, we had envisioned boating across the pond to Isla Bastimentos and specifically, Red Frog Beach. We read some mediocre reviews, were warned about a history of robberies around the area, and after poor negotiation skills, our decision was made that we would not go to Isla Bastimentos (for $26 when all was said and done). We instead dropped off our laundry and rented two cruiser bikes for the afternoon. Playa Bluff was 8km down a paved, then loose gravel followed by sand road. A long stretch of golden sand, the beach has the most notorious break for surfers and killer rip tides. We cautiously made our way into the water, knowing to not mess with rip tides but also aware that it's not the season they should be their worst. Unfortunately, they were still strong enough for us to not go in past our knees. After an hour of the hot sun, we rode back to town.
We now sit in our room that has become home for the past 6 nights, content with clean clothes surrounding us and bags packed a bit fuller with souvenirs. Tomorrow we will say adios to Panama, the country (besides Nicaragua) that we've spent the most time in, after 43 nights. We will likely haggle with some locals on the price of the boat back to Almirante, hide our faces in embarrassment if we see the same bikers from our previous short time on the Almirante dock, and take a bus across the Costa Rican border with our eyes set on Puerto Viejo de Talamanca.
