Day 5
We left Santa Fe early in the morning, catching a minibus back to the regional town of Santiago. Our goal was to cross the country’s Tabasara mountains and reach the Caribbean islands of Bocas Del Toro by night. The bus station in Santiago was predictably chaotic and confusing. We were trying to get transport to Almirante, admittedly not the most important destination in the country and not a regional hub with loads of buses heading in and out of it. One bus company claimed to have a 10:30 AM bus to Almirante, but everyone at the station told us we had to go to David, another regional town, to get a bus to take us there. We eventually learned that we were at the wrong bus station and had to take a short taxi ride to a truck stop that had a bus company operating out of it.
The bus company’s office was closed when we arrived so we ate some food at the open air restaurant while waiting. When the office opened, the woman at the desk told us a bunch of information that didn’t seem very accurate and left us a bit confused. Anyway, a bus did eventually come and we were on our way.
After a couple of hours on the main highway that ran across southern Panama, we turned north, into the mountains. The drive through the mountains was absolutely stunning. We ascended through rolling hills of emerald and up into misty forests surrounded by jagged peaks. Near the top of the divide, we crossed a reservoir created by a massive dam.
On the other side of the divide, the country started to feel a bit different. It was visibly poorer and the people more indigenous. The housing was basic and very clapboard. We noticed a new flying, which we later learned was for the Ngäbe-Buglé Comarca, one of Panama’s five indigenous zones.
When we arrived in Almirante, we were immediately greeted by an enthusiastic man with a lanyard trying to hustle us into a taxi. I didn’t want to agree to anything just yet, as I knew the port might be within walking distance. We crossed the street to the convenience store to buy some food and a couple of five gallon jugs of water, as the potable water situation on the islands was spotty. We got info from the cashier about how to get to the port and how much to pay for a taxi. With the new information we were able to get our short taxi ride to the grimy port. We easily bought our ticket out to the town of Bocas Del Toro and crammed into a long wooden boat with about thirty other people. Surprisingly there were only a couple of other international tourists on our boat.
As the boat slid out of its slip and out of the little inlet of the port, we saw that we were right next to a massive export of operation of Chiquita bananas. Stacks and stacks of Chiquita branded shipping containers awaited their departure to Florida and beyond. Knowing the history of Chiquita (formerly the United Fruit Company) in Central America, it was kind of a chilling sight.
I was bracing myself for an obnoxiously touristy area, but even at the port in the town of Bocas del Toro, I didn’t see many foreigners. Then i realized that most people probably fly in, avoiding the eight hours of bus and thirty minutes of boat that it took to get here. Then we got into town and I could see that while it was grossly touristy on the main drag, it was dead. This was low season and boy did that have an impact. Nobody even bothered us, trying to take us to a hotel or come into their restaurant.
We took a short walk to the hotel we had planned to go to, but when we arrived, we couldn’t find anyone to check us in. The front gate was closed, but lights were on inside. We walked all through the hotel, looking for somebody to help us, but it was temporarily abandoned. Lise sat in the courtyard, waiting for someone to come, while I went and looked for other places to stay. Luckily, right across the street there was a funky hostel (you know the type) that had a pretty cheap room, so it all worked out. We dropped our stuff down and went in search of a beer.
The first bar was completely empty, but had cheap beer and was set right on the water. A great place to relax while the sun peaced out. We walked closer to town, on the main street and went into a slightly fancier place with a great on-the-water dock situation. The tables were made of heavy hardwood. The woman running the place seemed to be a foreigner…French maybe? While it was a very agreeable setting to unwind in the Caribbean, I was very unsettled by the art on the walls. The theme was romantic depictions of banana plantations. Maybe banana plantations in the early 20th century were actually workers’ paradises in Panama…but based on my understanding of this region’s history, this felt like going to a white-owned restaurant in Alabama that had rosy-toned art about antebellum plantations.
Down the street we found a little spot for dinner. It was basic little hut with stools at the window. They served up local-style food for locals at good prices. We each got a hearty plate of chicken with rice and lentils. It was good, but with the hot sauce I had brought with me from the city, it was delicious.
Day 6
We woke to heavy rains. We felt lazy about getting up and out of our room. Eventually we did it though. We had to get off of this island and on to a different.
Back at the port there were plenty of people there to offer rides to a variety of destinations throughout the archipelago. We had already reserved a spot in the town of Old Bank on the island of Bastimentos. Our hotel’s reservation confirmation included details about getting there, including the price for the boat to be $3. Of course now, nobody would let us get into their boat for less than $5 each. I got pretty frustrated, but after going from person to person, someone finally, begrudgingly allowed us to go for $4. I understand that maybe the hotel forgot to update their price, but this was a collective boat (like a bus, not a taxi) and i saw the local passengers pay $1 or $2 for the ride. There was definitely a two-tiered pricing situation going on and I can get frustrated by that.
We arrived in Old Bank in the mid-morning. It was a sleepy village with no cars. I love when there’s no cars. It changes the atmosphere in such a positive way. This area was obviously used to tourists, but there was little sign that people were desperate for tourist dollars or even cared at all that we were there. People barely even looked at us, but would be friendly if we greeted them. It was kind of refreshing.
Our hotel was basic, but it was literally over the water. We could see the Caribbean through the gaps in the flimsy floorboards of our basic room. It also had a communal kitchen, a pier and several hammocks. That’s pretty much all I could ask for.
We went out looking for lunch, which was a surprisingly difficult task. There were several restaurants, but they were all closed. A couple of hotels also had restaurants, but as it was low season, they didn’t seem to bother to offer food. Eventually we were pointed to a restaurant being run out of family home. The woman who stood in front of the giant pots of food gave us the option of stewed chicken or fried chicken with a side of rice and lentils plus avocado for $5. We ate our generous portions out of styrofoam boxes on the porch of the house.
Our next mission was to hit the beach. We had to cross to the other side of the island, over a modest hill through a forest featuring guinep/mamoncillo trees that spilled their fruits all over the trail. Halfway to the beach, there was a break in the trees and we could look down to a bizarre housing development. The houses, all painted either green, blue or yellow, were identical and in neat rows. I wasn’t sure if this was some kind of government housing project or if it was worker housing for some kind of industrial project happening on the island. Neither quite made sense and I never figured it out.
The beach was pretty idyllic. It was huge, completely undeveloped and lined with coconut palms. The surf at the moment was a bit rough so, at Lise’s insistence, I was very careful to not get in too deep. On the shore I gorged on mangos and mangosteens I’d bought back in Bocas del Toro town. Unfortunately, fruit on this island seemed hard to come by and even the fruit I’d bought in Bocas was not from there. It wasn’t quite mango season yet and there didn’t seem to be much of anything growing on this island. Later in the afternoon, the weather started to turn and the waves got bigger. We decided to head back to town to relax for the rest of the day.
We walked up and down the main path in Old Bank a couple more times. It was perfectly calm and boring, just as it should be. At night, when we got hungry again, we were faced with a dilemma that would perpetually flummox us during our time in Panama. Where was the food? Some places would close early or not open at all. We walked up and down the path and all we could find was a basic food stall serving salchipapas, a plate of fries with sliced hot dogs on top and slathered in condiments. It wasn’t the worst thing, but, ya know.
Day 7
Part of the reason we booked the hotel that we did was that they offered a free day of kayak use. Well this was the day. I imagined us spending the day exploring the unseen edges of Isla Bastimento or paddling out to remote, tiny islets. The weather wasn’t looking great, though. It was kinda gray and a bit windy, but not too bad. The hotel manager suggested that we paddle across to Isla Solarte where there is a little beach and good snorkeling. It looked close, but turned out to be a decent paddle of about a mile. We approached the point of the island, and unsure where to go, we went around to the far side of it. There were a few homes along the coast. A couple of homes were typical basic shacks, belonging to people from the island, and a couple of sturdy vacation homes with enclosures sat among them. We pulled up onto a muddy beach, not quite sure if this was the spot that was suggested to us. If it was, it was a pretty bad recommendation. I would later figure out that we should not have gone around the point and stuck to the uninhabited, forested side. That is where the hidden little beach had been hiding. We lazed around in the mud for a few minutes then decided to try something else. There was a dive boat just off shore a few hundred meters. I could see they were getting ready to leave, so we paddled out towards them, hoping to poach their spot. It was a great move. As they zoomed off, we were arriving. Lise and I took turns diving down with the snorkel and mask. There was plenty of coral and brightly colored fish to peep at. We were lucky to find this spot as it didn’t seem that you could just dive anywhere around here and see something interesting down below. As we considered trying to find that beach again, the wind started to pick up and the rain began. The sky had turned a pretty menacing shade of gray and we thought that maybe we should at least head a bit closer to our island for the time being. We were heading straight into the powerful wind and the rain started to pound hard. There were moments where our hardest paddling simply let us stay still. I started to get a bit nervous, but I managed to keep the spirits of the crew (Lise) up by singing sailing songs and not letting on that I thought there might be a reason to worry. It took a lot of work, but we reached the bay that Old Bank sat on and the conditions eased up a bit. As we dried off and warmed ourselves up back on land, I realized that the $40 I had had in my pocket was gone. I knew it was stupid, but I had put an emergency $40 in a ziploc and into the pocket of my swimming shorts. I am still haunted by this serious error.
For lunch, we went to the same place as the day before for a big meal of fish, rice and lentils. Later we went out on the kayak again, but it was pretty cold so we didn’t really go anywhere or stay out for very long. That afternoon we were hanging out in the village center, sitting on a bench watching the local teens play basketball. All of a sudden a white woman who I recognized from our hotel arrived with her son of maybe seven years. The boy had a ball in his hand and looked kind of timid. His mom encouraged led him onto the court as if there wasn’t already a full on basketball game going on. The players all just stopped and watched as this woman told her son to shoot the ball. He did and missed badly, but tried a few more times as the group who had been playing just kind of watched patiently. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Why was this woman doing this? Why didn’t she try to ask first if she could let her son shoot a couple times? She really just looked like she didn’t notice that people were already playing there. The game restarted and the mother and her son stood off to the side. A few minutes later, though, they did the same thing again. I couldn’t understand it. I had already been mildly annoyed by this family of six as they tended to monopolize the whole common area of the hotel (hammocks, tables, kitchen), but I tried to be understanding. This, however, was out of control inconsideration. The basketball players cleared the way a second time while the kid threw up a few more airballs. They seemed cool about it and didn’t even seem impatient or annoyed. Respect to them for that.
At certain points I felt that awkward tourist guilt in Old Bank. I’ve traveled a lot, but I would say very little of my travels have been for pure pleasure. This trip in Panama had no excuse except that we wanted to go have a tropical adventure, especially somewhere we could afford. It was hard to ignore the poverty in a lot of the Caribbean parts of Panama, especially Old Bank. It made me wonder if I had any business being there. I never felt any sense of resentment from the Old Bank residents nor any desperation for the tourist dollar I might bring. This helped ease my guilt a lot, but it was hard to ignore the people in the shops buying individual slices of American cheese or single hot dogs. I mean, if you’re buying loose hot dogs, ya poor. But at the end of the day, I noticed that the actual wealthy tourists never even saw Old Bank. They went to any number of private and secluded upscale hotels located on more remote parts of the archipelago that required private transport to get reach. We were paying like $25/night for a shoddily constructed clapboard room.
That night we couldn’t find any place open for dinner except the “Danish” restaurant of a nearby hotel. It was a bit pricier than what we were used to and they had almost nothing that appeared on the menu, so we ended up sharing a plate of fried chicken. It was fine.
Day 8
We decided to stay an extra night in Old Bank as we were really enjoying the atmosphere of it. However, we didn’t spend our day in town. We went back to the beach. This day it was perfectly sunny and the beach was nearly empty. We walked all the way to the end of the beach where there was a little rocky cove and the water was calm. We spent the day swimming, getting really nice and tan, snagging coconuts from the trees and drinking their water (a real godsend, as we hadn’t brought enough water) and eating mangosteens and bad baloney sandwiches. It was probably one of the simplest, but most memorable days of the whole trip. There’s few things I like more in this world than getting my own coconut out of a tree and cutting it open myself. I only had a little $2 kitchen knife, but with enough hacking at the right angles, I was able to get my coconuts open without too much trouble. I mean, what else is there to say about this day. Nothing happened, but it was the best.
That night we noticed that a fried chicken restaurant that had been closed the night before was now open. We said we wanted two plates of fried chicken, and the woman told us it would be about thirty minutes. So we came back thirty minutes later and now she only had one serving of fried chicken left. So for a second night in a row, Lise and I shared a plate of fried chicken for dinner. I know that one can’t expect a lot from the food in a village on a small island, but this area did have a distinct Afro-Caribbean cuisine. We just didn’t know who was serving it. There were even a few tourist-friendly informational signs that explained aspects of the local culture, including the cuisine and certain specific dishes. We never saw any of the things mentioned food-wise in real life.
Day 9
It was time leave Isla Bastimentos and Old Bank. On the way out, I asked the guy working at the hotel, who also drives boats, the cost of getting back to Bocas del Toro. He said $5. Again, the e-mail the hotel sent me said the price should be $3. So instead of getting a boat from our dock, I figured it would be cheaper if we went to the pier in the village. This led to the embarrassing situation of me trying to haggle the price down, also explaining that we had paid $4 to get there. Our previous boat driver was there, but acted like he wasn’t hearing any of this. Some Rasta guy passing heard that we didn’t want to pay $5 and he just said “so kill them”. An elderly woman already on the boat was cursing us in the local Creole and not being too shy about it. The boat driver eventually admitted that locals pay a lower price, and dropped the price to $4. I regret getting frustrated and kind of causing a scene, but I also don’t know if it is that unreasonable. Everything else, buses, meals, loose hot dogs, all have the same price whether you are from there are not. Why are boats the exception? Anyway, I felt sheepish and guilty the whole ride back to the main town.
From the main town we planned to head up to the northern part of the island, where food and potable water would be sparse. So we filled our jugs of water, bout some groceries and Chinese steamed buns and hopped on a mini bus. The bus was blasting a reggaeton mix put together by “DJ JIMMY CLAR”. We know who it was because throughout the music a DJ would constantly be shouting over the top “DJ JIMMY CLAR”.
After about an hour, we arrived at Boca del Drago, a kind of remote area of the island. We had reserved a hotel room which was basic, but one of the more expensive places we would stay. I can’t complain at all, though. The room was clean and the hotel was steps away from the water. I immediately grabbed my snorkel and started exploring the turquoise waters. I saw a couple of stingrays, a barracuda and random fish. It wasn’t exactly the kind of beach one wants to hang out in all day, but it was nice to be able to swim so close to the hotel.
View from our porch
After getting settled in, we set off for the main attraction of this part of the island: Playa Estrella. We’d heard it was a nice, white sand beach famous for the starfish that hang out just off shore. The path to get there was a beautiful little trail along beaches, through forests and even among mangroves. Before we even got to the beach, we could hear it. The reggaeton rhythms reached well beyond Playa Estrella. We were pretty shocked when we arrived to find such a party going on. The beach was lined with food stalls serving drinks, seafood, coconuts and other food. There were loads of tourists, both foreign and domestic. It was weird because we hadn’t seen many tourists so far, especially all grouped together. We also hadn’t seen too many other tourists walking along the trail to the beach. Most of these people had arrived on boat as part of day trips from other parts of the archipelago. Honestly, the atmosphere was a little obnoxious, so we walked all the way to the other end of the beach where there were no more beach bars, but also no more shade trees. We took turns using the snorkels to check out the purple and orange starfish. Other than another stingray, that was pretty much all there was to see under there. We eventually moved back to the main part of the beach as we needed to get some shade. Most of the people were renting chairs or little cabanas so it was actually difficult to find an open spot to just sit with our towels but we eventually found one. The weirdest part was that we saw more than one person doing influencer stuff, holding up their phones, doing take after take saying “Hey guys, I’m here at….HEY guys, I’m….Hey guys, I’m here at Starfish Beach in Panama!…” It was pretty bizarre behavior to see in real life. We hung out a little longer, but decided to head back on the trail to try and find a calmer spot.
Mangroves on the trail to Playa Estrella
Our next spot was a little patch of sand near the trail, under some coconut trees. I had brought a couple of coconuts that had fallen while we were at the main beach. Unfortunately, these weren’t quite young enough to open easily. I spent a long time, just hacking away at these stupid coconuts, making a horrible mess on this beach. I don’t even remember if I ever managed to get them open. Probably, but I’m not sure. While we were sitting there, two flustered blonde dudes from some northern European country came and asked us if we’d seen anybody come by on bikes. We hadn’t. They had been exploring the island on bicycle and had left them somewhere along the trail, locked to a bridge, I believe. But the bikes were now gone and they were looking for bikes and/or culprits. I was just glad I was not them, because they were not going to find these bikes.
Our little spot away from Playa Estrella
That evening we just hung around our hotel, eating bad cheese sandwiches and sipping beers and it was the best.
Day 10
After being a bit disappointed by the crowds at Playa Estrella, we decided to go back, but early. This was a great idea. The whole place was completely empty and we had it to ourselves for about two hours. It was fun to watch the people trickle in. First the coconut sellers arrived on a boat, with a load of freshly picked coconuts. Then a couple of the seafood shacks started to flicker to life. The first tourists to arrive was an American couple who had retired in Costa Rica. They were very taken with a charismatic trinket seller who called himself Ricky Ricardo. Then a boat load of high school-aged midwesterners landed on the beach. They were so fresh from America I could still smell the corn and freedom on them. I did a bit more snorkeling and saw some rays and a fish I called a Blue-Faced Longy. I looked it up later, though, and apparently it’s called a Needlefish, which to be fair, also makes sense. Before heading back to our spot, we decided to at least try one of these fun little seafood beach establishments. We had been tempted to splurge on seafood, but in the end just decided to have a beer. We watched a nearby French couple who were feasting on lobster. They were a bit of an odd couple. They were probably both in their 60’s. The man had long hair, board shorts, a few tattoos and piercings and no shirt. She was dressed in smart, airy linens and appeared generally conservative, if not just out of place. I imagined that this woman was a lawyer and she was having an affair with her client, who promised a sense of adventure as well as steady work for all of his custody cases.
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