Guabal

Sunday, Feb 27

I woke up at 8 and caught a taxi to the Albrook bus terminal to buy a ticket for the nine P.M. direct bus to Bocas. I couldn't buy ticket because the road was closed due to Indian protests.

I returned to the hostel and told Nico it was not possible to get to Bocas for serveral days due to road closure. I told him I was heading to Santa Fe and described it to him. He got on the phone and talked with Tanner at about 10:30. Tanner said he would soon be ready. Soon is relative in Central America and they were quick learners. Misty and Tanner were dragging their respective asses in consequence of the excesses of the prior night but Misty was packing a heavy load of passive aggressive responses to being “told what to do.” At noon, Nico, Tausha and I walked over to their hotel and tried to rouse them. They finally showed their faces around 12:30 and then Misty decided to pack her bags for the minimal supplies necessary for a two day trip. She opened her suitcase and pushed things back and fourth for an interminable period while I paced. Finally she was ready. They wanted to walk a mile to the bus stop to get a $.25 ride to the bus terminal, I wanted to get going. I flagged down a taxi van and negotiated a $15 ride to Albrook for the five of us. I asked the driver how much he wanted to drive us to Santiago and was quoted $600. Yeah, right.

Stopping back at La Jungla the extra bags were put in secure storage and we went over to the mall. This group had previously purchased tickets to Bocas which could not be used. I went to the window and told the cashier that we wanted a refund. She put the tickets aside and indicated that it would be a little while. I walked down to the other end of the terminal and found that the last express ride to Santiago was at 2:00. I returned to the Bocas window to find a line of 100 people trying to refund their tickets. I wasn't going to wait in line while other orders were processed ahead of mine which had been previously submitted. I went to the front, stuck my hand through the teller slot and indicated that I wanted my refund immediately. She needed my passport number. I wrote down nine random digits, got the cash and handed it over to Nico. Now Misty and Tanner decided they needed to eat. We missed the 2:00 bus. Then they needed to hit the ATM. We missed the 2:30 bus. I told them I would go on the 3:00 with or without them. I passed out nickels, which are necessary, exact change, to get through the turnstiles, I don't know why they don't include the charge in the ticket.

We finally got on the bus. A Panamanian woman with a child got on the bus and said “Hi, Jim!” I had no idea who she was. I chatted with Nico about photography, we got together a shopping list for food. Three and half hours later we were in Santiago and headed across the street to provision. I was the only person with any Spanish whatsoever so I procured items from the meat counter. After taking a number I waited and waited while people were slowly served sliced processed meat. There was never a discussion as to thickness, everything was cut about 3 mm thick, I would have preferred it to be about a quarter of that. Finally, with shopping done we headed across the street back to the bus terminal and I walked down to the Santa Fe bay to see the tail lights of the bus, the last bus of the day.

Back out front I ran into the woman from the bus who asked if we were going to Santa Fe. I responded in the affirmative and then she asked if we were staying at La Qhia which was also affirmed. Finally I had placed her, she was a maid at the hostel. She told me that taxis to Santa Fe would be $25 if we could find one. Cab after cab refused the one hour trip. Rosa, the maid, made phone call after phone call or asked the cab driver if he knew someone who would go. Five minutes, ten minutes, somebody is coming. Another five minutes. Failure after failure. After an hour I flagged down a dual cab Hilux pickup truck and negotiated a price of $40 for all of us. I sat in the front seat, the other six sat in the back until we got out of town after which three rode in the bed with the bags. We ascended the mountain under a clear star speckled sky as the temperature dropped near continuously. Rosa called Stefanie at La Qhia and confirmed that they had five beds in the dorm. An hour later we arrived in Santa Fe, passed the hotel which appeared to have closed down and were greeted by Stefanie who informed us that she was fully booked for the week. She suggested we try Tierra Libre, the only other lodging in town besides Hotel Sante Fe, a dump without a restaurant or bar and way the hell down the hill, probably outside city limits.

Tierra Libre had but one guest, which is one more than it usually has. Seneth, the Cambodian woman who runs the place and her husband Marnix were in the restaurant chatting with a couple from England. No food was available, the kitchen was closed. No, we couldn't use their kitchen, this is a restaurant. Tausha made wraps of meat like products derived from chicken and ham with cucumber, tomato and lettuce, Monterrey Jack cheese, enhanced with a little hot sauce and wrapped in thin tortillas. Marnix looked at the food and give none too subtle hints that he was hungry. We gave him one despite his previous ingraciousness.

Tanner and Misty took one room. Nico and Tausha took the other room and I took a room in the dorm they slept platonically on the same bed. Tausha is a wife and mother of two and is married to one of Nico's best friends. There was another guest in my room, a woman from California who had been “rode hard and put up wet.” A Texas expression about horses.

Due to Civil Unrest Today's Plans Must be Alterered

Well, we were going to go to Bocas del Toro but the roads are blocked due to an Indian uprising.

http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5iKFqEO_8eV5YNYhuVqKyvs6MLJLA?docId=CNG.1de3d3e808bdef630857a5569202a6df.961

Arrive in Panama

Disembarking from the plane at Tocuman in Panama City I scurried off the plane, cleared Passport Control in three minutes, grabbed my backpack in a couple of minutes and cleared customs in a minute. I headed down to the bus stop, but couldn't find it in the dark. To hell with it. A taxi came by and I talked him down to $20 and asked him to take me to La Jungla. He didn't know where it was, so I gave him the intersection. He still couldn't find it with the address so I told him where to turn.

Exhausted, I took the elevator rather than labor up five flights of stairs fully laden. I got my usual room, the attendant tried to overcharge me. I told him to call the owner in Boquette. I got the room for $30. After a very necessary shower I changed into clean clothes and headed out to the deck. A couple of strange guys were there, whose name I don't recall, it doesn't matter they were insignificant in the mayhem to follow.

A group of four people from Montana were well into their second bottle of seco, a cane sugar liquor that is a short cut to extreme inebriation. Tanner, a 29 year old, was in an advanced state of insobriety and spent hours telling us that he was an athlete and a famous skateboarder. He travels with a backpack designed to hold a skateboard. He showed me that he was famous, why just yesterday his friend had posted a picture of him on SkateMontana.com. All righty, then. Tanner and his girlfriend Misty live in San Diego. Tanner met Misty when she cared for him after he sustained a severe head injury while performing a stunt on a skateboard while being pulled by a car. Misty is devoted to this visitor from a parallel universe. Neither of them engage in any productive activity and support themselves on a small inheritance that Misty recently received. While Tanner boasted of his $2,000 Nike's and lamented that as a result of the $480,000 treatment for the fist sized blood clot he incurred in his brain all of his assets were seized and he has to surrender 25% of his earnings to pay off the medical bills. 25% of nothing is nothing.

Nico was a classmate of Tanner and lives in Montana, supporting himself as a professional photographer and videographer. Nico is a good looking, buff guy who enjoys a wide range of activities including surfing. Despite being a surfer he is very articulate and not self absorbed.

The staff at La Jungla had completely turned over. This is the first time that Raymond, cousin of the owner was no longer there. Usually everybody else is new when I arrive. The preceding Thursday the place had been held up at gun point, the robbers must have passed the front door which requires a buzz in, unless somebody tailgates, up and through the open front door. One of the girls, no longer there, had claimed that she had just withdrawn $8,000 from an ATM. Uh, huh.

Tanner wanted cigarettes so I showed him the way to the store, past the guard who slept very fitfully on a chair and could not be awakened.

We returned and three from Montana were seriously inebriated, a fourth person joined them in a Montana discussion in which everybody talks non stop and nobody listens.

I agreed to show them to and around Bocas, going to bed at five we agreed to meet at nine. I had been awake 55 hours at this point.

Miami

Uneventful flight on a Boeing 777. Personal entertainment system in every seat. Hey this is almost as cool as taking a bus through the Andes. Switch from TV to music the lowest non off level is deafening. Back to TV, the shows are all twenty minutes long, but they don't start and end at the same time. So you finish a show and cut in on another 4 to 17 minutes in. Brilliant plan. The remote control is tethered to the seat in the armrest. So I can do what? Pull it out and hang it over the armrest into the aisle? Jam it next to my ass? Use it as garrote? Every time I put my arm down it changes the volume. Who does usability tests on this crap?

Go to passport control, take an escalator, a train, an elevator, three more conveyors, people are not doing the proper stand on the right walk on the left, just march like I'm no a trek for at least half a mile. Fly through passport control in five minutes, my personal time must have been 20 seconds, this guy was a machine.

Off to get luggage. It takes a long friggin' time to take all the luggage off a 777. The luggage stops coming, my pack is nowhere to be seen. Having a great time now. Wait half an hour it burps out one final bag. Off to customs another half mile walk. Get send to the green dots, (no inspection required, get out of jail free) first time that has happened in America for me in years.

Off to check the bags follow the yellow dots to check in my bag at least a thousand yards of meandering through lines that back track on them selves. Now where? Another frigging terminal? Hit the heat of day and walk for a quarter mile to terminal D. Walk up to check in counter. No you are already checked in, take it to TSA bag drop off. Hand them back they throw it on a conveyor.

I'm sure I missed some conveyors and elevators in the above description.

Off to security, none of the types of questions that you get in England, "Did you pack your bags yourself? Have they been in your possession? etc." Get in queue "Take off your shoes." Back to this again are we? Long queue get to front.

"Everything out of your pockets. Everything." WTF? Oh, it's a porno scan. Walk into the machine take off your belt. Step back out of the machine put belt on conveyor. My wallet, passport, tickets are in separate buckets from my computer and cameras. My shit is now through the xray machine for picking from the five people trying to get their stuff back together. Step back into the porno scanner. "Put your hands over your head." Ok, but I've been 2 days without sleep, ran out of underwear and I'm going commando. Pants fall to knees I just stand there, my shirt tails affording my some level of dignity. I stand there for 10 seconds. Apparently the machine had to be recalibrated but I guess they figured they had subject me to an adequate degree of indignity and let me pass.

Finally found a damn flight display, I don't know why they are hundreds of yards apart here. They are in every restaurant and cafe in Heathrow. Flight is delayed by a couple of hours.
It's been a long day.

Instead of the very high velocity hand blowers that get your hands completely dry in two seconds without heat that I was using in Heathrow I encountered empty tissue dispensers in the bathroom.

Its been a long day and its not over

At the gate

Would you like butter on your sausage? Ahh, no thank you. Beans on toast? I'll give it a miss.

Walked over to the currency exchange and got sodomized. Pounds I had paid $1.84 for were bought back off me at $1.41. Through security, no shoes but I had to remove my belt and put my hands in my pockets to hold my pants up. Bag rexrayed. God, not another knife lost. Nope. It slides down a long well lubricated lamp to slam into the tray holding my notebook computer. Long trek through shops and duty frees. Another long walk, but this time I had checked my heavy bag so the going was light. Another security check, that's my fourth one for this flight. Yet another passport control. Boarding pass taken, man immediately checks stub. No groping, no body scans.
Flight leaves in an hour. I'm sitting at the gate. Why do airports have so few electrical outlets?

Out of Here

A nice little cafe in terminal five and a 15 pound 24 hour internet pass and I wiled away the day. Around midnight they announced that they were closing so I was evicted from my leather lounger and deprived of my electricity. A few tables were moved to block the lounger I had previously occupied but. I looked longingly like a kid through a candy store window and assumed a spot on a metal bench to wile away seven hours. Another hour on the internet, some reading, truly WTF Darwin "Descent of Man", tried to nap but was afraid I was so tired I would sleep through my flight. Got up at five, took an elevator down four floors and headed off the the Heathrow Express train to terminal three. Walking, more walking. Caught the train, walk, another tunnel, yet another long tunnel, another elevator walk across a terrace, terminal three.

Now the question is did I do the right thing? Around midnight I received an urgent email from Travelocity telling them my itinerary had changed. Well, that was yesterday's news. Wait, I'm booked on two flights out of London, leaving five minutes apart from two different terminals? Is that why I was sodomized at the ticket counter, I have yet another flight I won't be able to use?

American had my reservation so I flew my British Airways flight on American. It's 6:30 in the morning, I haven't slept for 26 hours, I smell like a goat in heat and I need to change the rest of my pounds to U.S. dollars. I'll keep you posted.

Wrong Terminal

I strapped on my packs and headed down Acton Town to the tube station and caught the train to Heathrow arriving at six o'clock for my 9:40 flight. After finally getting through security the agent said he didn't have a reservation for me.

An internet cafe offered access for twenty minutes for two pounds. I went online and typed in my credit card information and was displeased to see at this rate that the screen was filled with advertisements that i couldn't make go away. I logged into gmail, something else I loathe doing on public computers found my email, oh, it's British Airways. Well at least I'm in the right terminal. So I got through security again by this time it was 8:40 an hour to go before an international flight. The gate agent informed me that flight 207 flies out of terminal five. This time I needed to use the London Express, I ran down the hall and bought a ticket for eighteen pounds, seems, excessive for getting between two terminals at an airport. I boarded the train and discovered that it was headed to London. Wrong direction. I was advised to get off at the next station and catch the next train back a stop, get off at that stop and take the next train.

The minutes ticked away I stood on the platform watching the count down to the next train realized that interterminal transport is free got to terminal five a half hour before departure and was advised that the flight was closed out, but had not departed next.

So I walked to reservations and was advised that a second flight that day would not make my connecting flight and was told that the flight difference was over a thousand pounds. I told her that was a pretty stiff penalty for being at the wrong terminal. She told me to wait and walked off. For 75 minutes I paced in front of her station, wondering if she was ever going to return. Finally she indicated that she found a fare with American Airlines that would be 416 pounds and a $125 ticket change fee. That's more than another ticket I bought a couple of weeks ago, that isn't going to be used either. Then my credit card was declined as was my debit card. Damn Chase Bank and their fraud system. I withdrew funds from an ATM using the same debit card. It's a pin based transaction so the bank decided I could have some of my my money.

After paying the girl I was handed my itinerary, which read British Airways. What the hell, I was told I was flying American. Oh, it is American Operated, go to the American Checkin. Are you absolutely sure? That was my first stop this morning.

I turned on the computer and it had a corrupted file system and wouldn't boot. I fixed that and tried to get onto the internet to see if could get my bank to quit dicking with me but I couldn't get a connection on the Free Wifi, couldn't buy a connection with my credit card, refused to use a public computer to do my banking and sighed an exasperated sigh.

Batteries running low walked a shop and bought a power adapater that I would be using after today.

This is not one of my better trips, that's for sure.

London

It's different here. A bus rolls by. No engine noise, no people screaming out the windows. No big black clouds of exhaust. People civilly queuing.

Panama, I'll be back, soon.