London Museums

Early to rise as we had a day out in London organised. Cash, card, phone, keys, camera, yes, let’s go.

A gentle walk to the train station brought us to the ticket machine.
This high tech multi-choice ticket machine was baffling to say the least. There were so many travel variations and options for the same journey. Do we take the overhead National Express Great East Anglia Line train with the required connection to the London underground train line service? Do we require an Oyster Card, or a One-Day Travel Card? Which zone 1, 2, 3 or all zones?

The queue behind us was growing by the minute.......

The necessary selections were made. The ticket came to £12.20.

We board the near empty train and after passing a few stations, the train driver announced "This train will terminate at Ilford Station, due to ongoing work being carried out on the tracks ahead. You will need to exit the station and take a bus to your destination!" What? The destination is 15 miles away! Oh well..........

To the bus stop we headed. We soon realized that the queue we were in was the wrong one and walked further ahead to the next bus stop. As we stood waiting Jim noticed an internet cafe and went in to have a look. He came out laughing and said he had photographed a sign:

The bus came and we embarked only to be told by the ever so helpful driver that there is another bus that would take us straight to Stratford Central station, where would be able to connect to the Underground Central Line that would take us to our destination - The Natural History Museum - in the West End of London.

The bus resembled a tin of sardines! Every seat was taken except for the 3 seats upstairs and every window was steamed up to the point of zero visibility.

Once at Stratford Central station we followed the crowd along to the Underground Central Line, better known as the Tube.

A little old lady in front of us was waddling along trying to balance on a high heeled pair of very impractical walking shoes, providing some light entertainment.

Once aboard the 'Tube' we had to stand most of the way as all the seats were taken. The multitude of different nationalities here was striking and all heading for the bright lights of London. It was an overly noisy bone-crushing journey, hanging-on for dear life in these trains is an art as we were being flung to the left, right, back and forth, ribs were elbowed, feet trodden and body blows worthy of a WWF championship title belt.

We arrived at our destination and headed up the 1/4 mile-long escalators, where etiquette - 'standers' to the right, walkers to the left were adhered to. Finding our way out of the labyrinth alone was an adventure. At the exit stiles our tickets were rejected. After several attempts we approached a station guard who looked at the tickets and declared they were only valid to the City (Zone 2) and not to our destination, (Zone 1) and that we had illegally travelled from the City to the West End qualifying us as penalty-worthy fare-dodgers which carried a £50.00 fine! We were advised to re-walk the miles of underground tunnels in the opposite direction to find the Ticket Office, where we could purchase a second ticket, which would allow us to exit the train station.

Off we trekked, bought the tickets, left the station.

Standing outside Knightsbridge station, we were greeted by a sea of tourists all admiring the paintwork outside the world famous Harrods. Some were seated under tree benches eating sandwiches, some where families working out where to go to next. There were couples photographing themselves outside the store whole families where exiting the store with dozens of Harrods' bags stuffed full of January sales items.........

On the pavement, was a beautiful array of cobbled stonework with circles left out for the trees. I ordered, sorry asked Jim to stand outside the famous store so that I could photograph him. He duly obliged and I snapped away. The taxi drivers carrying passengers who also wanted to visit the store, mounted the pavement with a total disregard for pedestrians, one even ‘nudging’ Jim and I out of his way, with his car!

We headed for the Natural History Museum, stumbling across an ice-skating rink full of people all skating in the same direction and a carousel in the distance.

Then we was the queue for the Museum! Several hundred metres of people just waiting to get in. It stretched from down the stairs and around the building. We headed off and found the Art Museum with no queue at all. (This should have been a sign). We wondered down the aisles admiring the various naked sculptures of male and females then found a photographic section and went in. There were very weird pictures on the walls. Very odd indeed. There was one picture of what looked like a chemical spill (just a splatter of different colours shooting off in different directions) and another of close-up dust and lint floating through the air.

Time to leave.

We headed to the Science Museum and managed to get in straight away.

We wandered around and found directions to an area called ‘Psychology; Mind Your Head’ where we saw clothes that had been made out of rubbish (trash) and a shadow on the wall of a person’s profile that was made up of modern latex penises and fingers! We looked over the balcony and saw the Victorian steam engines and headed towards them.

There was jaw dropping machinery along with black and white diagrams to show the mechanical movement. The terrible time we had trying to get into London was worth every second, for this alone.

Upstairs we saw variations of watches, clocks with their back case open so that it’s movement could be seen. Jim fondled his balls while gazing inquisitively at the technical data. There were beautifully crafted sundials and compasses too.

There were beautifully crafted sundials and compasses too.

Interestingly we saw farm equipment from times gone by, plastic replicating robots, old medical memorabilia, telephone switching stations, cray computers, atomic clocks, old composting wooden toilets and wooden vacuum cleaners.

I have forgotten how many corridors, aisles and flights of stairs we walked, but by the time we got to the wooden toilets, I removed my boots to relieve my poor aching toes and carried them over my shoulder.

Once outside, we headed up the road and saw a lovely corner pub and went in for sustenance Jim ordered an ale and I, a white wine. We went upstairs and sat down in the restaurant area and ordered our meals. I had the sirloin steak with fries and vegetables while Jim had ....................? (a truly unmemorable meal).

Jim chatted up the waitress.

The train ride home was on a half empty (or full) carriage allowing us a comfortable journey. We were going to head straight home, but we were still hungry and headed over to the Indian Take-away Jim ordered the hottest lamb vindaloo with naan bread and a lamb korma for me.

Trying to get to the airport

5:00

It was a cloudy night, the eclipse was obscured. People gathered outside the window, returning from bars in the wee hours of the morning. A knock on the dorm room to admit a keyless straggler. It was a sleepless night. I checked the time. Five oh four, why did my alarm not go off? Stuffed stuff in my backpack. Went down the stairs. No receptionist to refund my key deposit. The smell of coffee. Nothing available. Cold brewed coffee sitting in a percolator, waiting to be turned on at seven. Where is my travelling companion of the day? Where is the taxi? Why is there no one here to call a taxi?

This is going to be a long trip.

############
5:15

Another guest is about to hike to Albrook Mall, the bus terminal. No, I'm not crazy, first its a very long walk and its dark through the worst parts of town, twisting turning roads. I walked down to a major road grabbed a taxi, we passed him and picked him up. I got dropped off at the bus station paid my $2.50 even though he tried to charge us each $3. Took a one hour bus ride that passed the damn airport. Got off at the next stop, hailed another taxi, to the terminal.

7:30

Uneventful checkin other than the fact that American Airlines insists that my British Airways flight from Miami to London is not cancelled. It was cancelled yesterday, guys, they don't cancel, get everybody not to show up and then fly anyway.

Dunkin' donuts had a menu printed only in English and the woman behind the counter spoke not a word of it. So I had to try to translate the equivalent of an Egg McMuffin. "Yo quierre una pan Brittania con huevos y queso con jamon."

Wonder of wonders, I got what I wanted.

8:20 Board commences. Uneventful flight so exhausted I slept. My head crooked over to the right on my shoulder, sore neck.

12:00 Welcome to Miami International Airport
Immigration was a breezed. Got the yellow dot trail at customs, but after quick x-ray was on my way. List of Countries since you left the US? Panama, Colombia, Brazil, Peru, Bolivia, Belize, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica. What is your occupation? "None".

Tried to catch a bus to South Beach so I could call Travelocity from my Hotel. A bus pulls up, says "Dolphin Mall" I asked the driver, "does this go to South Beach?" "Como?" Ahhh sh.t, "Este autobús va a South Beach?" "No, necessito otro." I need another, so I got off the bus. Turns out I needed to get a transfer from Dolphin Mall, not wait for another bus here. So I wait, and I wait and wait some friggin' more. Three Cubans tell me that the bus comes every hour. Finally I ask a black guy, "What time is the next bus to South Beach? I've been sitting here for hours." "You just missed it, city buses, across the street and down that flight of stairs. Just look for the bus that says South Beach." Ok, I'm making progress now. Walk down the flight of stairs buses come by every 15 minutes, none say, "South Beach". One guy tells me I need to take the "J" Bus and another says I need to take the "150". I give up. BA has opened their "Customer Service by now." Last time I passed they weren't going to open for hours, despite the fact that hundreds of incoming passengers had their connecting flights cancelled. Now I was way the hell back in the line to buy tickets. Must have been 150 in line ahead of me. I saw a line 50 meters away to check in, with two people in line. That's it. I'll check into my cancelled flight. The woman dealt with a couple for twenty three minutes. She was putting them on standby on flight 208, the one I was trying to get on. In the mean time the line I just left was clicking along and people were getting into the queue ahead of me. These people just kept asking question after question. It took the same woman 6 minutes to put me on standby. My questions, "What is my position in queue?" "I don't know." Well I know why they won't tell me. They'll bump be down when BA frequent travellers show up. In the mean time I get an email from my gal in London who tells me that Travelocity can't even confirm a flight for me on the 28th. That's a week in Miami. Not that I would mind, if I wasn't spending it at the airport.

#############
7 PM

I am one of forty three people on standby. Forty are called. I remain with two others. One decides the appropriate thing to do is bitch out the ticket agent as though she had anything to do with it. I went over to ticketing. There were only two people ahead of me. I told my tale of woe to the ticket agent. "Listen, route me any way you have to, through Frankfurt, Munich, Paris. My little girl is coming home from the Peace Corp in Namibia for 8 days. I haven't seen her in two years." Guy leaves, goes to back room for a minute. "I have you confirmed on flight 208 tomorrow. Give your daughter a hug from British Airways." He handed me a voucher for a suite at the DoubleTree and $40 in travel vouchers.

Panama to Miami

I am catching a five o'clock taxi in less than four hours for a half hour ride to a three hour flight. Airports are not my friend right now. I was supposed to be in London the morning of the twenty-second after a layover in Miami. The layover is now indeterminately long. Heathrow is near shut down and more snow is coming. The American Airlines segment from Panama to Miami is non-cancellable, but the the British Airways trip from Miami to London is unavailable. I guess that means I hang in South Beach for a while. Hopefully I will get to meet my niece in Fort Lauderdale, and Jim and Pat in the Florida Keys while I bide my time. A lovely woman with some winter gear and a refrigerator filled with my favorites bemoans the fickleness of nature, looks like Christmas might not happen until January.

Tonight is the night of the Winter Equinox coinciding with the full eclipse of the moon. It is a cloudless night in Panama and the moon is directly overhead.

This weeks property loss? My iTouch. Sure it sucked. The screen was cracked, the off button broken, It wouldn't transfer notes to my computer. But, it was better than nothing, it played music and took notes. What should I replace it with?

On my way to London

My friends at Casa Verde informed my that my room was reserved for the night. I had intended to take a minibus to David and a chicken bus from David to Boquette to visit some friends, but a few things got in the way. I popped next door, Walter whisked me to the airport where I purchased a ticket to Panama City and went home to pack.

I was dismayed to find that my Machu Pichu shirt and a very well worn guide shirt never made it back from the laundry. I should have checked at the time. Looking through my pile of stuff, all in ditty bags, I pulled out the hammock, the jungle survival kit and the machete among others. Nothing I could really use in London. The aforementioned goods were stuffed into a big boat bag and given to Walter for safekeeping. Now I have goods in Sante Fe, David and Bocas.

My pack is eerily light. I returned to the airport at 3:45 the designated time. Why we need to be there an hour before the flight is a bit of a mystery. This little dual prop plan can accommodate thirty passengers. After a couple of minutes we landed in Changinola, stayed for a couple of minutes and flew onto Panama City, landing at Albrook airport, a small airport inside town.

My taxi driver took two Argentines to Texas and proceeded with me to Luna's Castle in Casco Viejo. Upon arriving I gave him twelve quarters. He insisted that the fare was $5. I insisted that he "eat me". I have done this trip scores of times. It's always $2.50.

Luna's Castle was out of rooms. I told them I would sleep in the theater a room which doubles as a dorm. My third level bunk was at least 10 feet off the floor. My hips and shoulder dug into board beneath the thin mattress if I didn't lie flat on my back. When I awoke people were scattered everywhere. Not a sound, not a breath or a snore.

I will try to rest today. It will be a sleepless night. You ask people to wake you up and they don't taxi drivers who promise to come don't show. Then for a long haul to the airport, a flight to Miama a long layover and a flight to Heathrow which is havoc over the snow.

Christmas in London

Panama, I shall return, to embrace you and be embraced by you as I wander, with a spring in my steps, lost in blissful thoughts and wordless conversation through and with boundless beauty. In the meantime, I shall be finding a long lost self as I explore the depth that lies beyond those brown windows of the soul, warmed by another heart, while the frigid London air questions my sanity. It's been a long time coming.

Gestures

Hungry as hell. The band stopped playing. I went to the kitchen to cook up a little grub. What's another chicken breast? A band member was supine on the couch. Are you hungry? "Si." Off to the chino to buy some chicken breast.

Upon my return the cook came into the kitchen. "Do you know what you are doing?"
"Just going to make a little late night snack."

"I'll whip you something up." The kitchen has been closed for three bours.

So... I got a couple of chicken burritos. But still... I have promised some grub to the band member so I am off to the kitchen to make what I was going to make. A couple of chicken burritos.

A man is only as good as his word.

Bastimentos

The Mamaloca bar needed some limes so some of the part time helpers were sent to go collect some. I had never seen the farm so I hopped along for a ride. We took a 26 foot panga across the bay. As we rounded the point to the unsheltered waters of the Caribbean the swells neared five feet. The captain surveyed the waters and the channel concluded that it was not safe to attempt to make a landing on this side.



A "camino viejo" old trail made of sand held in place with wooden slats made for easy and scenic walking. After traversing the width of the island we headed along the beach, found another trail to climb back over a muddy trail to the other side. This walk was much muckier and I immersed my boots over the top in muck repeatedly. I was glad I had decided to wear long pants. After our second traversal we walked further along the beach on the and finally arrived a the appropriate spot in front of the farm. The view after a hundred meters of ascent was spectacular. The old farmer certainly had an appreciation for the merits of the aesthetic.

I lingered at the farmhouse, the boys continued up to pick limes by the bagful. Mamaloco goes through a hell of a lot of limes. Congratulations Chester.

The big chef treated a group of friends to sausages accompanied by vegetables. I had never had chayote before, but it will certainly not be the last. The band returned and the place started to fill up again. Half the people were locals, owners of resorts on adjacent islands and miscellaneous proprietors. This lead to the stories of Bocas. Everybody had a tale. I have several myself.

The band was the same as Wednesday night, but this time it was reggae alternated with trippy, all in all it was a wonderful performance.

Music and Mayhem

Just trying to help out here, I fixed a couple of computers, a lock and the security video system in the morning. After a long walk I returned to Casa Verde and introduced myself to a very charming Dutch couple. We sat there and shot the shit for hours. It was drizzling and there was not much else to do.

It was music night at Casa Verde. The eight o'clock music started right on time, in Banana's country, shortly after nine. The Dutch returned with a bunch more of their traveling companions. The place filled up and everybody had a wonderful time. The police showed up, better to hang out here than walk the streets. I offered my chair to the police chief. Hester, a Dutch girl that is staying here joined in to the group. She said something in Dutch and then apologized profusely for not having spoken in English. I had to laugh.

Three guys tried to throw a fourth into the ocean. He had wrapped himself around a pole. I walked over and said quietly. “Don't do it, or you will be permanently banned from this place.” They looked at me like I was crazy. I said, “I mean it.” They let him go. Chester, the owner said, “Jim, nicely done. Great having you here.”

The show ended early and people left to go to Aqua Lounge. Walter had never been there. I decided to show him why he doesn't go there, but I was out of cash. The police took me to the bank in the back of a paddy wagon, but the ATM was drained as people had exhausted the supply of cash and it was Mother's Day. We went to a hotel and talked with the owner, an Italian friend of Walter's who speaks no English. The owner lent me a $100. Walter told me I was the only American ever allowed into the hotel; I don't think he was jerking my chain.

We walked down to the water taxi station and took a boat over to Aqua Lounge. Girls were swinging on swings, people were staggering about. Behind the bar, the baretender was standing, shirtless, his pants down to his crotch, his ass fully exposed as he was spanked by a barmaid. A girl was leaning against a stair rail, not a very happy person. Her purse had just been stolen. Never take anything to the lounge of the pirates.

People started to leave in droves, thirty people on a boat not fit for twenty. We took a later water taxi and returned Isla Colon. Walter, ever the more sane, left for home. I saw a guy sitting on his front stoop and stopped to ask him what was bothering him. Kid trouble. I listened for three hours. A few words about the fact that kids go through phases and reassurance that with love and attention it will pass and he was feeling much better.

Sarah

This morning I was introduced to a very cute blonde girl by the woman who is running this place and then she said "This is Sarah, she wants to sleep in your bed tonight." I looked Sarah up and down, looked into her face quizzically, I had never met her. Sarah gave me a big smile and then broke out laughing. "So we are moving you to a different room." Funny way to give a guy an upgrade.

But the woman who runs this place is a Czech with non-spectacular command of English and may be devoid of a sense of humor. Sarah and I have been laughing about it all day.

Bocas del Toro, Panama - day one

Tonight I was greatly pleased to see that Casa Verde had completed a major renovation, including a restaurant and bar and that people were filling the rooms and restaurant to capacity. I expected to meet with a very good friend, which was realized and had the great pleasure of meeting with another very good friend who had come in from Florida.

We were joined by two very charming young Dutch women and sat and chatted all night. Unfortunately after the lightweights left I was informed by one remaining friend that all of the stuff I had stored at his house in Panama had recently been under four feet of water as a torrent of water inundated his house, tour down walls and destroyed his landscaping while filling his house with two feet of mud. Although I have apparently lost $1,000 in electronics and about $500 dollars in other goods, I felt more sorry more my friend.

Uvita to David

Breakfast followed by a quick packing and room inspection was followed by a quick peck on Josephina's cheek, the woman who has been bringing me breakfast poolside for the last eleven days. I don't even have to walk into the restaurant she noticed me at the table and brought coffee unsolicited, sure that I would never turn it down. What a great place, I will have to write up a tripadvisor report.

8:00 Walking to bus terminal, except I don't know where it is and I never asked. It's a small town when I get close I'll ask; it can't be hard.

A few minutes after I arrived at a the bus stop I met a Norwegian guy in his mid forties
"Que hora pora bus hasta Palmar Norte?" What time is the bus to Palmar Norte?
"8:40" English!

8:45As I tried to board the conductor held his hand, not saying a word.

"Quento Questo?" How much does it cost?
"Hasta?" To where?
"Palmara Norte."
"mil quinientos" One thousand five hundred Colones.

Three 500 colone coins were tendered.

The bus had three seats on the left side of the narrow aisle and two seats on the right. I walked across the street and talked

It was difficult to walk my pack exceeded the width of the aisle but I finally managed to make back to a row with three adjacent unoccupied seats. I put my back pack on one, may day pack on another and took the aisle seat.

The Norwegian takes a seat net to a middle aged not very attractive tico woman, although there are plenty of unoccupied seat pairs. Within fifteen minutes she is examining the crown of his nearly shaved head, puts his hand around his shoulder and gives him a kiss on the forehead. It looks like a sympathy kiss. Just another mystery of travelling.

9:20 Thirty people board standing in the aisles. I move my day pack on top of my back. The conductor wants to fit it on the overhead shelf. The only way he could pull that off would be to jam the big SLR camera through the cover of the computer. No way I am going to let that happen. I moved over a seat and an old man takes the seat next to me with part of his right cheek hanging out into the aisle.

More people board. Pressed flesh to flesh in an unairconditioned bus. I contemplate offering my seat to one of women stating in the realized that no good deed goes unpunished and that something could easily be removed from my pack. Even worse I would be pinned between her two daughters, my crotch bumping into the back of the younger girls head while her sisters face would be banging into my ass.

9:48 People disembark in droves. The old man vacates his seat. A cute tico girl takes his place. She would obviously lean into me than the asses in the aisle. Ok, this is getting awkward, you're seventeen and rubbing me from leg to shoulder with the side of your body. Worse things have happened. Think pure thoughts.

10:30 I fought my way down the aisle passed the people that would be resuming, wearing a pack. It was an effort with no people in the aisles, now it was a battle. People boarding the bus cluster around the doorway, presumably fighting to get on for the seats so they don't have to sit in the aisle. No orderly queuing down here. Now how the hell am I supposed to get through all of you to step down off the bus? The sun was bright in my eyes, I reached up to pull down my... dammit, left the hat on the bus. This time I just barged past the queue, pushing them, urgently trying to get on the bus before the aisle were so crowded they could not be navigated. I put my daypack on the console and explained, "Regresso, solo necessito mi Sombrero", which probably means nothing. I looked in occupied seats next to the windows in the middle of the bus. After I asked a couple of people if they had seen my sombrero, the woman who had been sitting in front of me pointed behind her. I stuck out my hand to the kid who had denied having seen one, he sheepishly pulled it out from under the seat where he had hidden it.

I found the ticket office.

"Que hora pora bus haste David, Panama?" What time is the bus?
"No."
"Como?" Excuse me?
"No."
"Este bus hasta Fronterra?" Is there a bus to the border?
"Si" Yes
What the F**k, could you be a little less helpful?
"Necessito otro pora David?"Do I then need another bus for David?"
"Si."
"Que hora este?" What time is it?
"Manana" Tomorrow WTF?
"Primera bus este no hoy?"The next bus is not today?
"Once" Elevent
"Hoy?" Today?
"Si." Wow this woman says less than Helen Keller
"Yo necessito compare billete hasta Fronteras"In need to buy a ticket to the border
"En el autobús"On the bus.


So I sat and read on a concrete bus bench in the tropical sun, no shade was provided.

Hungry, I hit a soda, a small cafe that serves typical cuisine. I ordered something I had never heard of before as a comidas, which is as previously explained the meat course served with a salad, rice, beans and sometimes yucca. Five minutes later, my liver and onions was served. Far more food than I could eat, I skipped the rice. 2,300 colones, about five dollars.

8,000 colones in coins were traded in for bills. The quick way to lose a few pounds.

The eleven o'clock bus showed up at 11:44 followed very short by hawkers incessantly enumerating their products, each flavor of juice in a little plastic bag is separately announced, the fried goods, they work on out announcing one another in louder and louder voices.

As I tried to board the conductor just looked at me, not saying a word. This is getting weird.

"Quento Questo?" How much does it cost?
"Hasta?" To where?
"Fronteras."
"de mil ochocientos" One thousand eight hundred Colones.


I gave him two one thousand notes, he made no gesture as if he was going to give me change. There were people behind me. It's just not worth dicking over 50 cents right now.

I walked to the rearmost seat that was unoccupied. One woman gave me her most unpleasant look, presumably to revile me into taking another seat. I responded by sitting next to her. Both my bags sat in the aisle.

14:09 We are dropped off at the border with no explanation. No indication where customs is, where emigration is, if we are going to continue to Panama for the other side. No customs or immigration forms are provided. Tracopa this is not a class act.

I recalled where the Costa Rica office was from my trip to this spot five months ago. Applause please! I can't find my car in a parking lot. The line moved very slowly each person taking ten minutes. When I got to the front of the queue I was processed in thirty seconds, I guess this was to balance the karma of some of my previous border crossings. If I don't get to an embassy soon and get a bunch of pages added to my passport I won't be allowed to cross borders anymore.

I managed to find the Panama office. Yup, just walk down streets on this porous border until you are in Panama and look for the right building. There was a special queue for indigenous people and several hundred Kunas, all women about four feet tall in their colorful garb, some with children, all girls as I recall. Our queue moved imperceptively.

A bus parked on the curb, four feet from the line and idle, spewing black clouds of diesel exhaust, particulate unburned carbons, carbon monoxide, it was horrendous. People were obviously uncomfortable but didn't want to leave their place in the queue. There were no passengers in the bus, they weren't set to take off, the driver was running his air conditioning. I left the line, walked up to the window and banged, really frigging hard on his window five times. "Muy peligroso, toxico. Vamoose." and pointed at the exhaust. He pulled the bus forward fifty feet, shut it off and got out of the bus and glared at me. The people in line thanked me.

A female tax collector walked my with a little sticker, which must be in my passport before I can have my entry stamp. Standing directly next to me she yelled very loudly to some guy across the street, it was like cannon fire. I gave her a US 10 but she had no change. Not in Panama too now. I gave her a 500 colone coin but she insisted that I give her 600, I should be the one punished that she doesn't have the change.


Only one line was open. After more than an hour I got near the window, I was next. Some guy came up rattling to me in Spanish. I told him I didn't understand him. He cut in line ahead of me. I put my big back right in front of him, then kicked the rear, spinning the bag, banging him with my walking stick. He started talking rapidly to the guys behind me in Spanish. I heard the word "Gringo" and "Americano" from him repeatedly, they guys just smiled bemusedly. I was processed in a couple of minutes. Then he stuck his passporte in the window and said "I'm a Panamanian, we don't have to wait." What the hell? Both what you said and the fact that that you said it in English." I don't know if this is true, but there certainly was no special window for them or any sign indicating this. I replied, "Yo pensionado." I have special residency privileges.

Time to get my bags inspected. Very strange you are supposed to wander down the street, find the building have some form not available at customs and have them inspect your bags. Why not just walk to the bus stop? Oh, they won't check your bags on the bus until they see you exit the customs building. So I went in one door, waited a minute and walked out the other, without having my bags inspected.

Time to change up my money. I had received my colones at the rate of 510 to the dollar. The change guy wanted to sell me dollars for 535 colones apiece. I turned to walk away, he dropped his price to 530, my bus was starting to board. So I counted my money and he did a quick calculation, under crediting me by 10,000 colones when he used his calculator, I had computed it on my own and showed him my number. I counted the money again really slowly for him and entered the calculations on his calculator. He pulled out the equivalent amount in dollars, but tried to short me a twenty. He did everything but give me counterfeit bills.

I hoped on the bus which left three minutes later and found myself in David. After an hour.

Hungry I walked into a chino, a cafeteria style restaurant invariably run by, to no great surprise, the Chinese.

A local ordered fish and rice and paid $2.75. I ordered the same thing and paid, $3.75, I didn't say anything, maybe I misheard what she said to the other guy. The guy behinds me gets charged $2.75 for the same thing. Lot's of people waiting in line, try to embarass the lady to return my buck at the expense of those waiting to eat or not.

A two dollar cab fare took me to the purple house, a hostel. A few people sit facebooking. The owner was very brusque as I started to give myself a self guided tour. This is a four bedroom house, how much explanation is required? "I'll show you where to go, but you have to be behind me." Wow! She is a gringo. The place is very clean home in a funky purple way. The other hostel in town is Bambu, which is akin to sleeping in rural brothers outbuilding next to the tractor.

Young Europeans backpackers flowed in for hours, the backpackers beautiful people began. All friendly and considerate.

"I'm so sorry, do you mind if I turn this light on?" she asked as she wanted to see what was in the book exchange.
"Not at all."
She picked out a book and said "I left my last book on the bus."
"Well, I hope you hadn't started it."
"I know, yes, I was a hundred pages into it, it was really good."

Off to Bocas.

Uvita to Cortes via chicken bus.
Cortes to Palmar Norte via chicken bus.
Palmar Norte to David, Panama via Tracopa Bus.
David, Panama to Lost and Found for a couple of days.
Then off to Bocas del Toro.

A lot of long layovers.

Somebody needs a four wheel drive and a long term traveling companion.

Lesson learned.

Don't overtip the maids unless you want a very extended sheet turn down service.

Ten thousand colones is a huge amount of money to these women.

Class is dismissed.

Too awesome