Boca Chica House

Four friends from New York booked a vacation house in Boca Chica, about a 7 hour drive from Panama City towards Costa Rica. The drive itself was pretty nice and without any hitches, save the one cop we had to pay to avoid getting a ticket. I think he was lying that we were even speeding and just saw easy targets in us gringos, but still a fairly nice guy considering the circumstances. We made it to the house by the afternoon and were all just blown away by the entire idea of spending a whole week there. The house is located on a lot of about 15 acres, 180 meters above sea level on a bluff with views of islands to one direction and the mountains, along with the highest volcano in Panama, in the other direction. We also had our own private cove. There was a small 'house' building that consisted of the kitchen and living room, then a huge deck with tables, chairs and hammocks. There was a small pathway off the deck to the bedroom cabin, with full large bathrooms and balconies to enjoy the view. That first night was blissful as we drank beer, cooked dinner, and I even took my first hot shower since arriving in Panama in December. It was shaping out to be a very relaxing, luxurious week.


I woke up Monday morning to my friend Josh telling me the water was out and we needed to call the owner. No showers, no flushing toilets, no running water to wash your hands or cook with. We were told that by later that afternoon a truck with water would be coming to fill our cisterns, if not then, by the next day. All fine. We spent time at the beach, hanging out on our deck, doing noting in particular. No water that afternoon. The property manager came out the next morning to check things out, the 3,000 that was 'supposed' to be there had mysteriously disappeared. He assured us we would have water by that or the next day. Long story short, we went all week with no water. Each morning we made a trek to the beach to fill empty jugs with seawater to flush the toilets. We had to drive to the small town to buy gallons and gallons of water to drink and cook with. We carried our dirty dishes down the hill to the beach and washed them in there. I went the entire week without taking a shower. Despite our beautiful accommodations, it was basically primitive living the entire week. Although I will say that we all did a very good job at laughing it off and keeping good spirits even though we all smelled like dirty hobos.

Other than the water situation, it was an amazing week. There were bats living in our shed that came out every night to eat the bugs. One night a bat got into the living room and flew around the house all freaked out. The surrounding forests were full of howler monkeys, yelling and screaming at all times of the day. We actually didn't see any until the last day, when we were swimming in our cove and heard some in the trees nearby. So we started howling back at them. We spent about 3 hours that day howling at the monkeys, who would howl back and throw their food at us. The variety of bugs and butterflies was staggering. It was rare to see the same kind of bug twice, from types of beetles, moths, spiders, praying mantises, wasps, and a plethora of unidentifiable creepers and crawlers.

Santa Catalina

Gabe and I rented a car to drive out to Santa Catalina. Its about a 5 to 6 hour drive from the city, nice way to see the country. About half way there I was pulled over for 'speeding,' the speed limit changes without notice. So while I was not speeding according to the last sign I saw, la policia begged to differ. I could either get a $100 ticket or we could "just work it out with him." So we gave him 40 bucks and headed back on our way. The last 2 hours of the drive is through mostly uninhabited farmland, lots of cows and a few houses few and far between.

We made it to our destination, a very lazy beach town, barely even worthy of being called a town. There were a few hotels/hostels spaced out sown a dirt road and a market. The one we had decided to go to was only reachable by driving on the beach, and we couldn't get to it with our car when we arrived due to the high tide. So we had to park on the beach, and walk across a stream with our stuff. We set up our tents (we decided to camp, a much cheaper idea since we had to pay our 'speeding ticket'), and spent some time in the water surfing before the sun set.

There aren't many options in Santa Catalina to eat since its so small, so we stayed at our site and ate pasta that the owner cooked for us and drank some beer, then went to sleep. We woke up early the next morning, hung out for a few hours on the beach and decided since the surf sucked, we'd drive back to the city a day early. All went well on the drive home until we got to the Bridge of the Americas, the bridge that crosses the Canal into (or out of) the city. We were stuck on the bridge for an hour, they had only one lane out of 4 open, and had to alternate which direction got to use the lane every 20 minutes. Although in retrospect, it was kind of cool to be up above the canal with view of the boats in the harbor.

Isla Grande

My friend Gabe came from Puerto Rico for a week to spend some time with me before I head to Germany. The night he arrived, we had a little get-together with the friends we've made down here and a good time was had by all.

The plan for the weekend was to drive to the Caribbean coast to a deserted beach that my brother and his friend Vittorio knew about to camp and surf for the weekend. We got up early and drove the 2 and a half hours or so and found the small dirt road that would (we hoped) take us to the cove we were looking for. Andy and Vittorio had been there before, but it is such a remote cove you have to hire someone with a boat to take you around a few rocky cliffs to reach it. But they were convinced we could get there by car. We drove up through the hills and a few times had to open random gates to continue through, but eventually we almost made it there. We'd have been able to drive there but ran into a small river blocking the road, and since Vittorio's car is a BMW hatchback, we decided against trying to forge the water. There was a house nearby, so Vittorio went up to it to ask where to go from there, if we could park on their property, etc. The 2 people that lived there were very nice and led us to the cove we were seeking, even helping to carry all our stuff, as we were loaded with coolers, tents, surfboards, water jugs, etc. It was about a 20 minute walk but at last we made it to the cove. Not at all what we wanted. It was a very stormy weekend, which had washed tons and tons of trash and driftwood on to the beach. The tide was so high there was barely any sand to walk on, nonetheless to camp on. We stayed there for about a half hour and had some beers while we decided what to do. The people we had met said we could camp on their property if we needed to, so we thought wed at least go back and talk to them about options. So we packed everything back up and trekked back up the hill to their house, although this time we didnt have their help in carrying our stuff so it took quite a bit longer to make it back.




We sat and talked to them for a while, wondering what we should do now. We eventually came to the decision to drive back through the hills and take a boat to Isla Grande. By the time we did all this, it was late afternoon. We found a place on the island to camp, set up our tents, and sat and watched the stormy windy sea until it got dark. We grabbed our food, a big bottle of rum, and sat at a table to eat dinner.

Apparently there was a surf competition going on that weekend on the island, so as we were eating, a big group of people came in, set up a tent and started giving out free stuff, all sponsored by a local sandal company, 2SURF. One of the surfers that is sponsored by the company, Pucha Garcia, was there signing autographs and taking pictures with people. So of course we took our free hats, sandals, water bottles, and calendars and got pictures with her. None of us had any idea who she was but everyone else seemed to be excited. It fun to meet local celebrities.

After we finished the handle of rum, we were in the mood for dancing. So we went to the 'bar' (a small hut that served drinks and played loud music) and continued drinking, dancing, swimming in the water, and talking to locals. A good time had by all. We told people we were from Europe and didnt speak English so that we could practice our spanish with them. Once anyone hears you speak english they want to only speak it so they can practice. We were not having any of that. We partied and danced all night until eventually we made it back to our tents and fell asleep.




The next morning a large group of our friends made the journey from Panama City to come meet us on the island to spend the day. So we had a nice day on the beach with everyone before heading back to the city late that afternoon.

Matanza

This Sunday, while everyone was watching the oh-so-Super Bowl, I was in a small village in the foothills about an hour outside of Panama city at a big party called a Matanza. This was my first glimpse into true Panamanian culture, as this is not something you read about or are even invited to unless you are a Panamanian. Im not exactly sure what was being celebrated, but from what I understand, Panamanians will find any reason to have a party. Basically, they slaughter a cow and spend all weekend eating it and partying. There were folk bands and dancing, swimming in the nearby river, fireworks, and lots and lots of drinking. Beers were only 0.50 and plates of food were $2. The entire day cost less than $10 each, including multiple plates and many beers. Although me and Andy were the only white people there, and getting lots of stares and looks, the friends we were with were sort of VIP so of course we were treated wonderfully and everyone was very hospitable. We sure did get some looks and hollers though.



Once it was dark enough and I was drunk enough, I was convinced into dancing. I showed them Panamanians a thing or two