Panama 2010: island and rainstorm adventures

Note: This posts comes from an email I sent during a trip to Venezuela, Colombia, and Panama in June 2010.

Hello everyone, one last time…

This is my last night in South/Central America, and I have mixed feelings about heading home tomorrow evening. I’m gazing out the bay windows at the view of downtown Panama City and loving it, but I am also missing my view of the Capitol.

Our plans got changed a bit in the last couple of days. Although I ended my last email saying that I was about to go to the Canal, that didn’t end up happening… Greg and I both felt a little strange (I thought perhaps it was due to the fact that I’d been wearing several layers of heavy-DEET insect repellent for 20 hours, but Greg is not a mosquito magnet and felt similar), so we decided that instead of going to the Canal, we would choose to be lazy for the rest of the day. I picked up a new book, established myself in a hammock, and remained there until it was time to watch “Spaceballs” in the theater. After that, we ordered a pizza (Panama City is essentially the United States, so there is Dominos here) and spent the rest of the evening making new friends in the hostel. This place really is awesome… I could stay here a long, long time without getting tired of the shared showers and dorm room.

Yesterday we made pancakes and then started out on a journey to a nearby island. However, when we arrived at the docks, we learned that my guidebook (published in 2004…) was more than a little out of date and that boats to the island were in fact over for the morning. Thinking quickly, we ordered the cabbie to take us to the Canal instead, so Greg, Emily (our new friend from Montreal), and I spent the rest of the morning at the set of locks nearest to Panama City. We walked through a four-floor exhibit in the museum and then went to the observation deck to await the arrival of one of the many, many cargo ships we’d seen hanging out near the entrance to the canal. We did get to see a boat go through the locks, but it wasn’t a cargo ship… it was a small passenger boat (that tours the canal) and an even smaller sailboat. It was more than a little anticlimactic, but it was still very cool to see the process. It’s truly an amazing feat of engineering! I took some video and some pictures that you’ll need to check out on Facebook.

We returned to our area of the city for lunch and went to a cafe that provided us with a menu that said “just let us surprise you – you’re on vacation, right?” After choosing our meat course, we sipped our steaming (?) cold beers and awaited the delicious series of dishes that appeared on our table: salad with a very tasty dressing, a vegetable tortilla (quiche to most of you, but for anyone who’s been to Spain, this was tortilla, not quiche), and then typical Panamanian rice with our meat (fish for me). All of this, plus an apple crisp for dessert, cost us $9 – win.

Although I felt like a nap was in order following that meal, we grabbed another cab and went to Panama Viejo, which is the site of the very first Spanish settlement here. There is not much left at all – it is like walking around Roman ruins except that this stuff isn’t more than 500 years old. It was burned down by pirates (really!) and not replaced. We had a fun time climbing up the stairs of the cathedral’s bell tower, and I attempted to revive my French by talking to Emily… I did better than expected but proved that I have indeed lost most of my skill in that language.

Back at the hostel, Greg set about taking out his braids, which were starting to look a bit ragged. Given that our braids have been a major point of conversation for us, this was a pretty big deal, and a small crowd assembled to watch and/or help. It was around this time that we finally got to see why this is called the rainy season in Panama. Yes, it’s been cloudy the whole time we’ve been here (and most of the rest of the trip, too), and yes, we survived some flash flooding in Caracas… but it was POURING here last night for several hours straight. Because we didn’t want to be lame and order pizza TWO nights in a row (plus apparently you can’t order pizza when it’s raining… not that we checked…), we donned our rain jackets and headed out into the wet with three French speakers who all had different budgets and interests for dinner. We eventually settled on a place and enjoyed a meal that proved that I am not allergic to shellfish (unlike my dad and brother) – hooray! I polished off a great plate of shrimp, squid, mussels, and scallops.

This morning we got up early and headed to the smaller of Panama City’s two airports for our trip to Isla Contadora, one of the many islands in the Pearl Islands chain about 50 miles south of Panama City. We flew in a single-propeller plane and sat two seats behind the two pilots, which was definitely a new experience for me. The airstrip on the island runs the entire width of it – this island is about a mile long and maybe half a mile wide, if that. Oh, and did I mention that our boarding passes were plastic cards, not tickets? It reminded me of the bathroom pass I used in my classroom.

Anyway, we hopped off the plane and started walking around without any particular agenda. The island has a bunch of different beaches (separated really only by rocks or a bit of cliff), so you can essentially just pick a direction to walk and find one. We arrived first at Playa Larga (Long Beach), where there was not a soul on the quarter mile of sand. We found an abandoned ferry at the end of the beach and climbed around in that for a bit; it was like excavating a plane crash… I half expected to find a skeleton somewhere! Seats were strewn about, windows broken, walls ripped out…

…and this proved to be the case for many things on the island. What looked like it had once been a beautiful hotel lay in ruins behind us on this same beach, and as we continued exploring, we happened upon a few more abandoned buildings. We found the next one after it started pouring rain. Take a moment and picture this: I am wearing a white skirt with flip flops and carrying a bag that is by no means waterproof, my umbrella is conveniently under my bed up in the dorm, and it is raining like it’s time to build another arc. We spent the next 30 minutes literally standing under a broken piece of roof covering the remains of what might once have been a community center of some sort. I spent the next two hours walking around in my bathing suit with my soaked clothes inside my soaked bag. Apparently I’ve lost my ability to plan ahead for all weather contingencies.

We next encountered what is the only legal nude beach in all of Panama, but as it was still raining, we didn’t take advantage of that. (Plus, really… it’s only a nude beach if there are other people there who are nude. Otherwise, it’s just skinny dipping.) I quickly fell behind Greg, who was wearing athletic sandals that lent themselves to climbing over rocks and up embankments. When I caught up, I was covered in mud, leaves, and various scratches from tall plants that had given me a warm welcome to the island. We eventually found a road again and walked towards nothing in particular until we eventually ended up on the other side of the airstrip. It was still raining at this point, but we managed to find an accommodating hut on a beach in front of one of the island’s cute hotels and sat there until it finally cleared.

My guidebook, though outdated, provided us with a recommendation for a place called Gerald’s Restaurant, which boasted a host of international and local cuisine. A number of things had already happened up to that point that I hadn’t expected; I certainly had not planned on eating bratwurst on a small island, but that’s what I did… the German section was the most impressive part of the menu, so I took advantage and thoroughly enjoyed my taste of my other homeland’s cuisine.

The rain appeared to be over for the time being, so I headed back to the beach in front of the hotel, hung up my clothes to dry, and lay down on the sand. This beach was deserted, too… there are only 300 inhabitants of this island, and given the weather, what few tourists there were did not choose to come outside today. I think this is too bad for them, because I might have found my new favorite beach in the WORLD today. I have three components for the perfect beach, and so far, only one (La Pared in Puerto Rico) has had all three: clear water, sand, and waves. Isla Contadora has clear water and sand, but the waves are very small… I don’t know whether to count them as such or not. However, I am willing to award some bonus points for the fact that the beach was deserted and clean… that was not the case in Puerto Rico. The water was also a perfect temperature, and I stayed in for quite a while… long enough, in fact, to get a little sunburned (because in my infinite wisdom I had decided it was too cloudy for me to be at any risk of overexposure to the sun).

Eventually it was time for us to head back to Panama City, so we checked in, received our plastic boarding passes, and once again climbed aboard the tiny plane. This time we sat directly behind the pilots, which was both cool (up close view) and scary (the co-pilot at one point clutched the wall in fright when the plane dropped a bit – not reassuring). I kept my gaze mostly out the window, looking for whales – Greg saw some earlier from a different part of the island. I found none but did manage to take out all of my braids as well, so once again I blend in with the masses.

Tomorrow is our last day; my plan is to find a post office and generally enjoy the day by sleeping in, eating one last good meal, and relaxing. I’ll be home around midnight tomorrow and may just start uploading photos the moment I get home – at this point, I think I have about 400.

I hope you’ve all enjoyed these posts and feel that you’ve traveled vicariously through me. It’s been an awesome experience. To sum up: I would like to return to all three countries – Venezuela, to see what the rest of the country is like (particularly its beaches, which are supposed to be amazing) and eat more arepas; Colombia, to visit Bogota, Medellin, Cali, and pretty much everywhere else; and Panama, to try to see Isla Contadora in the sunshine… it was pretty today but would be 100 times prettier in the sun.

Colombia/Panama 2010: the longest bus ride ever, 12 hours in Bogotá, and the world’s best hostel

Note: This post comes from an email I sent during a trip to Venezuela, Colombia, and Panama in June 2010.

Greetings from Panama City, gateway between the oceans!

Although I haven’t written for a few days, there is not a ton to report. Let’s start with the bus ride from Cartagena to Bogota, otherwise known as a day I will never get back…

I spent my last day in Cartagena lazing around the hostel with some shopping thrown in. I worked my way through about 70 pages of the Spanish version of the new Eclipse novela by Stephenie Myer while in the rooftop hammock and eventually descended to brave the souvenir shops, where I bought some jewelry and a dress. It was a cloudy, rainy day, so there just wasn’t much else to do. Greg and I ended our time in Cartagena by visiting a grocery store, where some Colombians helpfully advised me in which type of aguardiente, strong Colombian liquor, to buy before our long bus ride. I also coached Greg on how to ask Olga, the beautiful and friendly proprietess of the hostel, to be his best friend forever in Spanish… something I picked up from reading the novela. (It’s literally “do you want to be my intimate friend for eternity?”) Unfortunately, Olga had already gone home by the time we returned, so Greg will now save this for another lady.

Our bus ride to Bogota was supposed to last about 16 hours. A British girl we met said she had heard 20 hours. Let’s just say, we were all wrong. We boarded a bus in Cartagena that was having air conditioning issues, and the Colombians were so indignant about this that most of them stormed off the bus before it left Cartagena. We were told it would be fixed in Barranquilla, which is great, except that Barranquilla is two hours NORTHEAST of Cartagena when we were supposed to be heading SOUTHWEST. However, always the flexible travelers, we shrugged our shoulders and settled back to enjoy the trip as best as we could. It really wasn’t uncomfortable on the bus when there were just seven of us. We passed plenty of small towns where chickens, goats, cows, and donkeys were plentiful and arrived two hours later in Barranquilla, a place you might recognize from a line in Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”. (En Barranquilla se baila asi!) We were pleasantly surprised to see that the air conditioning issue was resolved within 15 minutes, but this turned out to be for the worse. The bus was FREEZING for the rest of the night… even in my ankle-length dress with a sweater, jacket, and shawl around me, I was wholly unable to get warm and spent the night alternating positions every few minutes in an effort to minimize my discomfort.

The bus ride featured a number of movies that I can safely say I will die happy without ever seeing again. They included “Highway Assassin 2”, “Boat Cruise”, “Wrong Turn 3”, and a random series of music videos that were really more like raunchy short films. When these were not on, we would get spurts of salsa music that unfortunately did not inspire the same spirit as the rumba chiva. Meanwhile, we just drove, and drove, and drove… eventually winding through the mountains, where I was grateful (despite my tendency towards motion sickness on winding roads) not to be sitting in the front of the bus, because our driver’s favorite game was to pass the cars, buses, and trucks in front of us. On winding roads. I took a few pictures of situations in which we could have run into an oncoming truck and also have a picture of the sign that indicates that passing is not allowed.

Every once in a while we would stop to let someone get on the bus to sell food or drink… I could have bought a ham and cheese pastry with a cup of coffee for about 75 cents US, but when you’ve just been sitting forever, you don’t have much appetite.

We hit some traffic when we got close to Bogota, and so despite being on the outskirts of the city, it took another two hours for us to fnally get to the bus station… at 6:30 pm, also known as 23 hours after we left Cartagena. Conclusion: I am never, ever taking a bus like that again.

I was quite disappointed not to be able to see Bogota in the daylight. Our hostel was in the old part of the city, and I managed to see the Plaza Bolivar (they exist everywhere, including here in Panama City) but not much else. I had opted not to bring my camera with me during our venture to find dinner, which I regret now because Bogota has lots of very interesting graffitti (it reminded me a lot of Zagreb). My favorite said, in Spanish, “we don’t want to be an American colony”. I definitely want to return to Colombia and see not only Bogota but Medellin, Cali, and other places that are supposed to be very interesting and fun.

We got up at 3:30 yesterday morning for our 6:30 flight to Panama, and it was at the airport that I finally had some Colombian coffee. I don’t have a great palate for things like coffee, beer, and wine, but it did taste pretty damn good to me… or was that just because I was in a semi-zombie-like state after extended sleep deprivation? I managed to fall asleep on the plane in spite of the coffee but was wide awake during our drive from the airport. Our cab driver was extremely well traveled and had a number of things in common with me… has family in Indiana and Colorado, likes Croatian people, etc. He had all sorts of things to say about how great the United States is and what the Panamanians are like.

Our hostel here is perhaps the most genuine hostel experience I’ve ever had. It’s called Luna’s Castle and overlooks the bay near the fish market. There is no air conditioning, but floor to ceiling bay windows stay open, and ceiling fans keep the air moving enough to keep things pretty comfortable. I was able to go to bed last night with a view of downtown from my pillow… awesome. There’s also a ping pong table, do it yourself pancakes for breakfast, a movie theater (we watched “the Big Lebowski” last night), and a bar that offers $1 cocktails from 9-10 pm. People are staying here from all over, including Britain, Germany, New Zealand, and Israel. Some of them have been traveling for months (living my dream). I had a fun time last night talking to a Londoner and a New Zealander who didn’t know the difference between Washington state and Washington, D.C., nor did they know where either of them are.

The hostel is in an old part of the city, where we walked around yesterday before hiking through a park that boasted a multitud of species of birds, monkeys, and other animals, none of whom we saw… but we did observe some amazing colonies of ants, and at the summit we got some pretty awesome shots of the city and the canal. It was absolutely worth the sweaty and somewhat perilous hiking up and down… I nearly faceplanted four times but emerged unscathed.

We are heading to the canal in a few minutes… should be pretty interesting!