A Slice of Paradice
There´s a sign up on the back of a Panamaian toilet door in Bocas Del Toro that reads:
You´ve been in Bocas too long when:
1. The only people who remember you arriving are the staff.
2. You think going to the laundry/internet is a productive day.
3. You stop saying you´ll leave tomorrow.
After four days I had filled all the criteria. And still I had no intention of leaving just yet. When I left that toilet door I rejoined Martini Monday in a bar whose name I could never get my tongue around. As a solo female traveller I decided to stay away from alcohol for the most part, don´t want to end up accidentally married or anything. But that evening, I was surrounded by four Irish people, two New Yorkers and three Panamanian guys, so I felt safe enough.
It was my ideal type of night out. We were staying on one little island, Caranero and left that for the main island to go to the bar. Then around one am everyone marches down to the docks to get in a rickity old boat to be brought to the night club, away from the liqour licencing police. The martinis were so impressive I was tempted to take a photo of some of them. They came in every colour and every flavour and were so good I thanked the bar lady later for making such great drinks. They were the kind of beverages I´d have to sell my bicyce to afford in Ireland.
I was quite excited about a night club on an exotic island. A little less excited when I saw it. The wooden structure was a restaurant that was moonlighting as a disco. We stepped off our little boat on to the dock to be greeted by all the rasta guys trying to get us inside. There was jungle to the left and right of the discobar so there wasn´t any fear of us not going in. They had a mixture of raggae and pop music which was amazing after four days of Bob Marley. I clung to Steve, a guy I´d met in Panama city, for fear of getting lost. He even had to escort me to the bathroom because restaurant lights aren´t very cool or sexy, so someone decided to just turn off all the lights. There was some sort of illumination behind the small bar but if I walked eight feet from that I could only make out bodies not faces.
I discovered that evening just how small Panama is. The island I was on was about a 10 hour bus ride away from the capital. But a guy we met said he was sure he saw me the Tuesday before huffing and puffing around the place. He asked whether I was ´The gringa with the really really red face´. I gave him a confused look and thought about it. What had I done the Tuesday before….
….I believe I was on an airplane. After talking to someone in Ecuador about her upcoming trip to Central America I decided I just had to visit for a bit. So I booked myself on the one hour flight from Quito to Panama City. I thought it would be a super idea to leave most of my luggage, including my laptop, in a safe in Ecuador so I could easily travel and get buses instead of taxis around. So, when I landed in Panama I skipped by the taxi rank, out onto the main road to look for buses.
I discovered they do a kind of ´Psst´ thing to get people´s attention. How cool of them.
I hopped on the bus with my small little rucksack and took off for the city. The map in my guidebook left out a lot of streets, including the one my hostel was on, so I was a little afraid of getting out of the bus. I ended up staying on the bus while going through the really nice part of the city, and then getting off in the dodgiest part. Smart!
Without a proper map I went off blindly into the city and started asking people where I should go. Three hours later I was still walking and looking when I had the brainwave to look at my guidebook again. Indeed it did not leave out the street of the hostel I was staying in, and I was only a few centimetres (mapwise) away. Few centimetres turned into half an hour but I found the street. Some men started telling me the hostel had moved. I knew better than to believe strange men so I went into a tourist office and they confirmed that it had moved. They gave me instructions and off I went. 45 minutes later I was back in the tourist office getting extremely annoyed at them giving me the wrong instructions. I´d gotten off my bus four and half hours before. The few taxis I asked for a lift told me I was very close, too close to bother them. The tourist office men saw how flustered (and red) I was getting and eventually rang the hostel to come pick me up. They did, and I discovered the hostel was right where the tourist office officials said it would be. Airplane to hostel in 7 hours. Wow, I´m good at this!
So back to nightclub and dreadlocked man asking if I was the girl who looked like she was going to explode with heat. ´Emm….I don´t quite remember last Tuesday, could have been me…..maybe´. Next fella to come my way said he saw me jogging around the island earlier that day. Do these people just spend their days watching the tourists, checking out their daily rituals?? I told him I was strolling, not jogging and moved on.
Myself and Steve had had enough of the evening´s activities. He was having a great time laughing at the whole ´Easy white girls have entered. Attack!´ thing. It´s like they think they don´t even have to ask us if we would like to dance. Just grab our hand and we will move. We went outside to hail a cab which came in the form of one of those little wooden punt boats with an engine that I believe should be used on a much larger boat. Before we left, we got one more quote for our journals. An elderly gentlemen came and told me he was a voyeur and would like to watch me and his wife. And with that we said ´Adios, freaky disco!´ And by ‘we’, I mean myself and Steve!
I was the last person to be dropped off at their hostel,and had what I´m sure came out as an intellectual conversation with the boat driver about his engine. Told him all about my engine at home and how I missed her dearly. I think he was about to throw me over board when we reached my island. After bidding him a good evening, I realised the not bringing keys idea was now turning out to have been stupid. My three room mates had had enough of the club before I had and I could see them sleeping soundly through the fly net. I discovered the next day that they had been followed home by a Texan man and had run in and locked the door whilst he banged on the door calling one of the girls´ names. The boat driver had to come and save the girls from him.
But before I knew all that I thought my room mates were just crazy to have even closed the door on such a long night. I didn´t quite fancy being found sleeping on the dock so I invited myself into the room of a honeymooning couple next door. We had talked earlier that day so I figured I´d be welcome. I strolled in, around 3am, woke them up and explained in English, to this non-English speaking couple, all about my evening and how I was locked out I didn´t know where to go or what to do. They just pointed to the spare bed and I curled up for the evening. Next morning I woke up a Martini smelling room and my Spanish honeymooning friends had left.
Even though I´m sure they said they were staying for another couple of days…..
Arriving in Bocas at sunrise.
The hostel Agua Lounge
Don´t remember what this is. But I like it!
Pretty amazing water!
I seemed to be the only one under 50 who was impressed by this; the Panama Canal.
Possibly the most amazing bicycle path in the world. Along the Causeway in Panama City.
Tags: Bocas Del Toro, Panama
cybersusst
Nice post! Just one question, is this linked to what Alex Tenns was speaking about on his blog?