Day 11
Well, it was time to abandon paradise. It was raining anyway. We took a steamy bus ride back to town and got on a boat back to the mainland. We snacked on baos (steamed Chinese buns) we had bought before leaving the island, as we took a couple of buses to the town of David, back on the southern/Atlantic side of Panama.
Crossing the divide again
Our hotel was away from the center of town in a middle class neighborhood that reminded me of an American subdivision built in the 70’s. Except with waaaay more security cameras, security walls, security dogs. We felt completely out of place and even self-conscious of our presence. We were a bit lost, but there were no pedestrians to ask directions from. There were no street signs. We finally tried to wave down a passing car, but the driver, behind windows tinted so dark we couldn’t even see that there was indeed a driver, accelerated past us, almost seemingly out of fear. Dogs barked at us from behind every fence or wall, eventually setting off the neighbor dog in a canine chain reaction that let the whole neighborhood know there were some pedestrians coming through. The whole thing felt kind of ridiculous. Panama came off to me as maybe the safest country in the region. But new money breeds paranoia about the class you just abandoned. And I’ve never been anywhere where the residents don’t think there is some kind of crime problem, real or imagined. Plus, this wasn’t even a fancy neighborhood. We would see luxury homes in Panama and these weren’t them. These were just normal family homes with a yard and a car or two.
We finally tracked down the hotel. It was basically a home that had been converted into a small hotel. The man who gave us our room was cold, but we got what we paid for. We cleaned up quickly and headed to town for a bit more life. It was a relief when we got to the vibrance David’s city center. There was really nothing to do though. We looked for a market or something but didn’t find much. Suddenly it started pouring as we were walking through a kind of rough neighborhood with nothing but bars and makeshift casinos. We popped into a bar to get out of the rain and ordered a beer. We sat at a plastic table and took in the chaotic scene around us. A mix of Panamanian music and bad American music blasted over tinny speakers. A lot of the people there were a bit sloppy drunk. It was kind of an ugly scene. Most of the customers were indigenous and looked like farmers or people who had given up on farming and hung out full time at the bar. I suddenly did the math on the beer we had bought and suspected we had been overcharged, something that we hadn’t really experienced yet. It was a bit more expensive than normal, but considering the class of bar and the clientele I didn’t believe that these people were paying $2.25 for a beer. Eventually I saw a poster advertising the same beers we were drinking at $1.25. While there was not a lot of risk of being casually overcharged in this country, I would eventually notice that when it did happen it was always over beers, as the prices were almost never advertised. Luckily we didn’t attract too much attention from the other clientele, except from one man who looked like he made a habit of drunkenly falling directly onto his face. He insisted on shaking our hands and mumbling incoherently at us as we dodged the accompanying spittle. This bar was a fun little adventure, but we didn’t linger as it was actually a bit depressing. David was a rapidly expanding agricultural town that was clearly dealing with some growing pains.
Beautiful David
After the rain eased up, we wandered the town’s center for a couple hours. There was very little to see, but we kept an eye out for places to have dinner. The sun set, and it started to rain again. We spotted a rooftop bar next to the central plaza and headed up. It was a pretty empty sports bar with a huge outdoor terrace. We sipped beers as we watched a huge lightning storm roll in. It got pretty intense, but we were in a good spot with a great view over the underwhelming center. When the rain calmed down again, we went out looking for dinner. After several trips around the center, the only thing open was a Chinese restaurant. It was 8:30 after all, in the third largest city in Panama (!). We shared a bad sandwich and some decent chow mein. Then we walked home and probably woke the entire neighborhood as we set off every single guard dog in the suburbs of David.
Chinese Restaurant
Day 12
Our next move was to head to El Valle de Anton, a small town nestled in a valley up in the hills. At the David bus station, unscrupulous bus company employees tried to hustle us into vehicles that, well, may not have been in our best interest to get into. Eventually I got proper information from a guy selling local cheese (the area around David has a lot of cattle farming) and we were soon on our way. The bus stopped in Santiago for lunch. We bought some snacks like “choripan”, (sausage in bread), and something they called “enchilada de pollo”. I don’t remember what it was, but I do remember that it wasn’t chicken wrapped in tortillas and baked in a spicy sauce. I also got some chicha, which can be different things in different parts of Latin America, but this one was basically like a lemonade.
As our bus started to get closer to our destination, I notice people selling mangos on the side of the road. Had we been in this country long enough to enter mango season?! I was so excited. We got to a town called Uvas (grapes), where we had to change buses. As we headed to higher elevation, I saw more and more informal stands selling mangos. Sometimes there were just unattended tables in front yards with bags of mangos on them that I guess you could just buy on the honor system. This was about to be the greatest day of my life.
On the say to El Valle de Anton
The town of El Valle de Anton was small and neat. The cooler air at this altitude was refreshing. This had become an attractive spot for 1st world people to retire to, especially since the western town of Boquete has become fairly overrun with retirees. We checked into our airbnb, which was probably one of our best deals of the trip. We had a huge room, kitchen, balcony and hammocks. We were a bit out of town so we were surrounded by greenery and little plots of cultivated land.
The house that our spot was in. We got the top, left half of the house.
CAT!
We walked to town to check out the market. I was planning on stocking up on mangoes. To my disappointment, the market was a bit touristy with a lot of handicrafts and specialty food items. The produce, therefore, seemed really expensive. It was true, however, that this was not local fruit and vegetables from nearby farmers. This was pristine looking stuff that may have come from far away. Worst of all, they none of the local small, green and purple mangos, They only had those huge green and red kinds. The town also had a lot of bougie restaurants to serve the relatively affluent locals and expats. At some point we stopped at a trendy-looking barbecue truck, not for food, but just to get a rest and have a beer. There were no prices, listed and when I went to pay, it was 2-3x the price of what was typical. I wasn’t sure if the server was just taking advantage of the lack of prices or if it really was that expensive here. Either way, I was now no longer going to buy a beer without asking the price first. For dinner we got some convenience store siu mai (pork dumplings), which had become a pretty reliable snack for us almost anywhere in the country, then some grilled chicken and potatoes from a stylish food cart. The chicken was delicious, and the cart really gave the vibe that the guy who was running it opened it less out of need for income (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and more because he cared about cooking good food.
A storm was rolling in, so we hurried back to our place. We beat the rains by about ten seconds. It just dumped and we were cozy in our home, hammock and balcony. Lise had bought some locally made coconut oil, so we spent the evening putting coconut oil in our hair, doing laundry, listening to reggaeton and watching the rain and lightning.
Day 13
The weather had cleared by morning and we walked to a nearby trailhead to go hiking. There was a $3 fee for this hike, which was surprising since the national parks in Panama are all free. This was locally managed, so maybe they just needed to collect fees for maintenance, but I felt it also served to keep out the working class types and prevent them from turning the waterfalls along the trail into a hangout or party spot.
Starting up the trail.
There was a home along the trail that had a sign out front advertising “duros”, literally “hards”, but was the name for a local homemade fruit popsicle. We stopped in and got a coconut duro and a nance duro. The hike took us through forest, along some rivers and waterfalls and up to a ridge line that had some small scale agriculture going on and a bit of livestock.
This is the Piedra Pintada, or painted rock, carved petroglyphs that may be up to 8000 years old.
We followed the ridge line up to a lookout point on the top of the “India Dormida”, or Sleeping Indian Woman. From the town, the ridges of these mountains resemble a sleeping woman and there is a legend that goes along with why she is there. This is actually an extremely common phenomenon all over the world. Wikipedia lists over a dozen mountains named some variation of “sleeping woman”, many of which have local folklore attached to them. The views from up there were exquisite. We could see the whole valley, the town and you could really see how the valley was really the caldera of a volcano, which last erupted 300,000 years ago. On the way down we took our time and explored the streams that ran over smooth rocks and made little waterfalls and pools. We swam and lounged.
I don't know why there was a creepy teletubby hanging there.
On the way back home I found one stray mango on the sidewalk. My mango season was beginning! Back at our place I made a classic Central American style breakfast of black beans, eggs, toast and cheese. It was pretty satisfying after our hike. I had the mango for dessert. It wasn’t the best mango I’d ever had, but it was a good start. Later, I went out to do some groceries. As I walked in, I noticed that there was a pile of local mangoes sitting by the cashier. I asked if they were for sale. She said they were hers, but I could have them if I wanted. I wasn’t sure how serious she was, so I just did my shopping and hoped that she would pass them along to me on my way out. This didn’t happen and I was too shy to ask again. I was still determined to snag some mangoes, though. I asked at a shop where I cold find some and they suggested I go ask at a little shop down the road a little farther. I did as I was told and found a friendly, elderly man running a little shop. I asked him if he had any mangoes and at first he said no, but then he said, well, ok, follow me. He didn’t have any for sale, but he could help me get some. He led me behind the shop to a backyard with a mango tree. There were a bunch of mangos on the ground and he helped me sort through them and pick some nice ones. This guy was awesome.
The profile of the "Sleeping Indian"
I arrived back home with groceries, but most importantly, lots of mangos. I then cooked dinner, which was Ramen noodles with some siu mai in it. It was nice for another cozy night at home.
Day 14
Waiting for our bus, before deciding just to walk to the waterfalls.
Todays adventure would include more swimming and waterfalls. We took a pretty long walk out to a place called Chorro Las Mozas. It was a swimming spot and series of waterfalls. There was a fee to enter and we got there before it opened. We had to wait about thirty minutes for the attendant to arrive so he could let us in. We were smart to get there early as nobody else even arrived for at least an hour. We made our down the trail alongside the river and took a swim in a series of small waterfalls.
Eventually we arrived at the main waterfall and it was too dangerous to continue. Or at least that is what the signs said and we weren’t all that ambitious or wanting to die. When we had had enough, and the place started to get a little crowded, we headed back to the main road. We were hoping to get a bus back to town, since it was kinda far. There was a group of people standing by the side of the road and I asked if they were waiting for the bus. They nodded to confirm they were, so I was glad to just follow them back to town. Then five minutes later, someone in a big SUV came and picked them up. Lise and I were so confused. I mean, my Spanish wasn’t great, but I thought my question was pretty clear and simple and they didn’t seem confused by it at all. Anyway, we ended up walking halfway to town before a bus came to take us the rest of the way.
In town we went out for lunch at a little fonda (basic restaurant). It was a touch fancier than your typical fonda and everything about it was nice. The server was super friendly, and the food was cooked with care. We got set meals. Lise got the albondigas and I got the chicken. The only thing that could have made it better was if there wasn’t a team of road workers jackhammering the sidewalk ten feet from us throughout the whole meal.
After lunch we decided to try to find the famous “square trees” of Panama. Apparently there’s a group of trees in the forest that are weirdly square-shaped and nobody knows why, not even tree scientists. So we took a long walk out of town and through a bougie neighborhood full of fancy homes on huge pieces of land.
Difficult to see, but there's a crazy dinosaur-looking lizard on this log.
We arrived at the gates of a hotel, where access to the hike to the trees was promised. The hotel was kind of fancy, or at least it was probably a luxury resort like thirty years ago. Today it was a bit run down, but not so out of shape that I didn’t feel completely out of place when we walked through their semi-manicured grounds and past the pool to the trailhead. Then we saw the sign that said that entrance to the forest with square trees would cost us $4 each. Haha, no way then. Nice trick. So instead Lise and I decided to confidently go for a swim in the pool. I was all nervous, like, what if the staff comes and asks if we are guests here? Lise assured me not to worry. The pool was actually quite unique. It was fed by a river that had been diverted to it. Instead of blue, chlorine-tainted water, it was just river water that flowed in one and and out the other. It was also very deep. I really liked it. We hung out for a while, swimming and tanning as if we were that kind of people.
Day 15
It was time for another change in scenery. We left the (semi) highlands for the Caribbean again. We took a really slow bus to Panama city, then hopped on a super fast bus to Sabanitas, just outside of Panama’s second city Colon.
Crossing some port or canal infrastracture.
Sabanitas was a bit chaotic and I liked the vibe. We waited at the market for our connecting bus, which was the classic Central American means of transport, the bedazzled American school bus with booming speakers. It was crowded on board and nobody really wanted to squeeze in or even put their bag on their lap so we could sit down. It was kind of shocking to me, but I didn’t care that much. Lise got a seat, but I stood for a while until a seat opened up.
After an hour or two we got to our destination, Portobelo, a historic and crumbling town that was simultaneously reconstructing and renovating. Overall, though, it seemed pretty shabby, but had a great location on a little bay. With few accommodation options, we headed to the town hostel, which was sure to have some option for cheap. Sure enough, they offered us their only available double room at a discount since the lock was broken and the bathroom was shared with the dormitory. The room was rough, but the hostel itself was nice enough and had a bar with a great deck to hang out on that overlooked the bay.
The hostel's common area.
View from the hostel.
We went on a walk through town. At some point we were walking across the square near the Royal Customs House, when two white guys approached us, greeting us in Spanish. After establishing that we were all anglophone, we switched to English. One of the dudes was American, the other Canadian. The Canadian, Chris, was a sail bum, who had stopped in this town because his boat needed repairs (or something like that). The American, Sam, was an English teacher in Mexico City and was on vacation. He was looking for fellow travelers to chip in on a boat ride out to a nearby beach. We declined the idea, but since we were staying at the same hostel, said we would meet up later for a drink.
Downtown Portobelo
Back at the hostel, we did indeed meet up with Sam on the big deck. He was nice and easy to talk to. He had the energy of someone who had been abroad for a long time and hadn’t spoken much in his own language recently or had the relief of hanging out with someone from home in a long time. What I mean is that he talked fast and he talked a lot. I understood though and it didn’t bother me. Anyway, my talking-too-much out of insecurity days are behind me. He was a well-read and pretty interesting guy. He had established a pretty nice life for himself as a teacher in Mexico City. I was a little jealous, as it really is one of my favorite cities.
Little geckon on my beer.
There was a group of young Panamanians hanging out around the nearby pool table, drinking beers out of their own cooler. I had seen them earlier in the day and wasn’t quite sure what to make of them. They seemed simultaneously out of place and extremely comfortable in the hostel. Eventually they greeted us and invited us over for a round of shots. Sure, ok. The evening took a fun turn of events. This was a group of young queer friends from Panama City who were on a little weekend vacation together. Now, I’m not sure if the whole crew of four or five was queer, but at least one was gay and another was gender queer, if I can use as general of a term as possible. Anyway, Lise and I chatted with one of them, the one who seemed kind of the leader of the crew, for a while. They had spoke English really well and was working at a call center for an American company. They said it can be hard being queer in Panama, but that the company they worked for supported them more than they could expect from a local company. Plus they were paid pretty well. It was a pretty fun crew to hang out with for a while. Eventually they wanted to go get some food and invited us to come with them. They said they wanted Chinese food, so we all crammed into the small car they had come in. I got into the trunk, as there wasn’t much space left in the cab. We rolled down the hill for about thirty seconds and then parked. We were there. I was like, wait, you wanted to come to THIS Chinese restaurant. I had noticed it earlier in the day and it couldn’t have been more than a three minute walk from the hostel. I think this crew just liked going around in their car even if it was kind of pointless. Anyway, Lise and I probably got some fried rice or something cheap, before getting back in the car and heading back to the hostel. I sat on the deck having another beer with Sam, as he continued to talk until eternity.
Day 16
The hostel fine, but we hadn’t really intended to stay there. It was just the only cheap place available at the moment. We moved out after one night for a little hotel on the outskirts of town. It was only a few bucks more, was a lot nicer and was right on the water, with a little patch of sand. The room even had a cute little porch. There were probably only four or five rooms and we seemed to be the only people staying there at the moment.
Hotel room decor.
After getting settled in, we headed back to town to get some culture. This town has a pretty interesting history. The Spanish established it as a port town in the late 1500’s to transport Peruvian treasure back to Spain. It was often the target of raids by the British and pirates and control of the town was always going back and forth. Captain Morgan even captured it once, raided it for two weeks and left. Today it still has the remnants of old forts on either side of it and a few historic buildings. The town is most notable, however, for its Afro-Caribbean population.
Fuerte Santiago, the fort on the western side of town.
Our first stop was the Iglesia de San Felipe, a church which featured a statue of a “Black Christ”. The history of the Black Christ is murky and several stories about how it came to wash up on the shores compete for dominance. It is a major pilgrimage destination for Panamanians as well as the African diaspora. A Black Christ festival takes place here every year in October. We were not dressed appropriately to go into the church, but we could still see it from the doors. We also bought a couple of very cool Black Christ trinkets from the man selling rosaries and candles outside the church.
Now we wanted to get back to the beach. The nearest public beach was maybe twenty minutes by bus from Portobelo. So we stood at the bus stop with a bunch of other people. Eventually a big shiny truck with a bunch of nautical gear in the back pulled up. A young man and woman got out went into the shop to get some snacks. On their way out, they asked us (in Spanish) where we were going, then offered us a ride. We quickly hopped in and were beach bound. I felt pretty weird about leaving all those other people behind who were waiting for the bus, though. The handsome couple was from Venezuela and had left their home country a few years ago for economic reasons. Now they were here in Panama doing some kind of boat business. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I think diving was definitely involved, and maybe tourism, but they definitely weren’t trying to sell us a dive trip or anything like that. The girl ate gummy hamburgers in the passenger seat.
Waiting for the bus in Portobelo
The beach, confusingly named either Playa Langosta or Playa La Angosta (Lobster Beach vs. The Narrow Beach), was a local party beach. The sand was lined with food stalls, and little cabanas for rent. However, this was a weekday and the atmosphere was dead. All the food stalls except one, were closed. It wasn’t completely empty, though, and at least one small group of people was blasting reggaeton from a portable speaker. The weather was gray though, and eventually it started to rain. We took shelter in one of the rentable cabanas, hoping nobody would try to come and collect rent. It was kind of a bummer of a beach day. Then Sam showed up and talked a lot. We ended up all leaving together, a little earlier than expected. While we were waiting for the bus, Sam was chatting with the other people at the bus stop. He was always very enthusiastic to speak to anyone around him. He also seemed to want to make a good impression with his Spanish, which was very good. He was insecure about it though, even though he had no reason to be. He was talking to these young women who didn’t seem all that interested, but were politely making conversation anyway. They asked him about his work as an English teacher and at some point they said “oh, so you know Spanish, but you don’t speak it much.” Sam completely took it the wrong way, thinking they were saying it as if they didn’t think he wasn’t able to speak well and he got all flustered trying to defend himself. They had simply meant that even though he can speak Spanish well, in the context of his work he is only speaking English. It was kind of funny to watch.
Back at the hotel, we spent the evening splashing around in our little beach and eating bad sandwiches. It was pretty fun.
The view from a seemingly abandoned restaurant near our hotel that we hung out in for sunset.
Day 17
Our mission for the day was to find a way to rent, borrow, buy, steal or build a kayak. There were so many little islands and coves around that it would be a shame if we didn’t do a bit of exploration. We went down the road where there was a dive center that had kayaks for rent. We went in and found an elderly British lady who told us the prices for kayak rental. Way too expensive, so we moved on. We walked towards town and went to a gated spot with a gazebo and a little beach. It was unclear if this was some kind of private business, residence or just public land with an open gate. There was a storage area for boats and kayaks, a dock and parking. Eventually we found someone to ask, and he said this was just a place to hire a boat for going out to secluded beaches in the area and they didn’t do kayak rental. There was an island just off the shore, which was also close to our hotel, and I asked about if we could get out there. He said the island was privately owned by the aforementioned dive shop. Bummer. I’d been wanting to go out there since we got out here.
We headed into town and looked for a kayak rental spot we’d seen online. It was right in the center of town and we’d read that it was run by a guy named Francisco. There was no sign or anything, but we asked around where it looked to be on the map. We were told by a couple different people that he was out of the country, either in Italy, or Portugal or America. Nobody seemed exactly sure about where Francisco was. It started raining pretty hard. We ducked into a little restaurant and ordered some beef and vegetable soup with a side of coconut rice. This was, hands down, the best thing I ate in Panama. A lot had to do with the atmosphere. The rain had brought a slight chill and this soup was so comforting. There was nothing too special about the soup, but it did feature some starchy vegetables I had never had before. The rice was also basic, but extremely flavorful. The soup gave me so much life.
A bus featuring an image of old Pineapple Face himself, Manuel Noriega.
After lunch we walked over to the Royal Customs House of Portobelo, the building where all trade passing through had to be registered and taxed under Spanish authority. It had recently been restored and now housed The Museum of Afropanamanian History. One large room focused on the history of Africans brought as slaves during Spanish rule and the other room focused on Afropanamanian culture and how it persists today. It was a really fascinating and important museum. We spent a lot of time in there, and I promise it wasn’t because the air conditioning gave some relief from the sweaty stickiness that awaited us outside.
"You there! I love you"
Our final attempt to rent a kayak was at Casa Congo, a hotel, restaurant, and hub of Afro-Caribbean culture. They offered a double kayak for $10/hour. It wasn’t great, but it was reasonable, so we decided to settle for a couple hours of kayaking. We paddled across the bay and and along the coast. Then we passed through some mangroves and entered the Rio Cascaja. This took as through some narrow passages among mangroves (awesome), and through some swampy lands. We weren’t all that far from town, but we felt really out there. I would have loved to have kept exploring the river or the rest of the area around Portobelo, but our time ran out and we paddled back to Casa Congo.
Back at the hotel we sipped some Abuelo rum and I snorkeled around our little patch of coastline. It was actually pretty good snorkeling.
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