Bus to Santiago, bus to David, up the mountains to Boquete. Several cups of some of the finest coffee to be had anywhere. I guess you should expect good coffee. Click on that link. Really.
Got hold of a friend who is staying at another friends house. Burgers, salad and some catching up. To bed. Roosters. Ahh shit.
Once again, the original, written on a bus. Kind of prefer the shorter version don't you?
I gathered stock of my quarters. The walls were unchinked small timbers, the ceiling of cana blanca, a small bamboo. The hardwood floor was graced solely with two beds, adequately outfitted with comfortable mattresses and adequate linen. A cat in heat merawled incessantly provoking a large dog into continuous deep throated barking. A brief interval of rest was attained to be interrupted by hundreds of cocks. This was a far cry from my peaceful refuge. I abandoned efforts at dawn.
As I write a few girls of unknown origin prepare coffee. I guess I will breakfast, head down to David and pop up into the mountains of Chiriqui in the town of Boquete. Perhaps dinner with a friend in Calderra at his ranch. I had passed by a few friends on the way out here, Charles in El Valle, Rudy and Ralph on the Pacific Coast.
Perhaps I shall catch up with some German girls on their way to stay with me and escort them home.
It is going to be a busy weekend, I am expecting four or five visitors, all young women, all German, two that live in San Jose and three that are traveling Central America. I guess I shall have to rent a boat capable of delivering the six of us to various destinations in the remote portions of the archipelago that I call home.
What next? Take up residence in a large house on Dolphin Bay situated on 25 acres of landscaping, ride horses and solicit guests for the spacious, well appointed cabins? Head to Southeast Asia? Who will I encounter in my travels? I mentioned Boracay, a charming young couple, two women mentioned that they are moving there. I've always wanted to see Indonesia, a girl that stayed with me a few months ago replied that she would be there in November and would love to travel with me. Phuket, Thailand, Bangor Wat in Cambodia? Give me great weather, clear waters, jungle, charming companionship and I could stay anywhere. Not too picky, that's a lot of world.
I run into people I know everywhere I go. When I first visited Panama it was not surprising to meet people time and again traveling the well trod routes from the beautiful tiny islands that compose the home of the Kuna Indians in Kuna Lana, to Panama City, again in Boquette and Bocas. But I have met people in off the beaten tracks and in distant countries. A man from Machu Pichu in the remotest jungles of the Amazon in Bolivia. Walking the streets of Caye Caulker in Belize with a high school buddy who lamented the paucity of women I encountered an English girl I had met years before on yet another remote island. In the trails of an Indian village in Veraguas I happened upon a farmer from the cocaine smuggling port of Colovobera. An Indian from Rio Luis, a town not frequented by white people called out my name as I was on the way to dinner with a group of people from Montana. At an airport in Lima, Peru another chance encounter.
A Canadian I met a year ago in the mountains of Veraguas Panama recognized me in David in February and gave me an update on Sante Fe a town of Indians with but fifteen gringos that claims a resident from my hometown,, one year my senior, a half square mile spot on the shores of Lake St. Clair, a 30 mile shallow pond through which water flows from Lake Huron to Lake Erie.
I got the lowdown on most of the inhabitants of Sante Fe. The builder from Austin who was to get construction going in a big way failed miserably. Residents parted with their money to be left with half constructed houses. He now sells hamburgers, too expensive for the Indians, shunned by the gringos in a town with but 10 beds for tourists.
Why am I telling you this? I don't know. I am just killing time, drinking coffee from a traditional coffee machine made out of three pieces of wood, a wire hoop and a sock like basket.
Breakfasted with, who else? A guy from Harrison Township, Michigan a retired General Motors executive and his girlfriend, living in Maui. They asked for travel advice. Sure, I'll show you around Bocas. See you next week.
One more cup of coffee and I am descending to David and popping up to Boquete to call on a couple I know maybe crash where they are staying, in a mutual friend's house. Maybe meet up with the trio and escort them to Bocas, maybe go solo. I am a bit apprehensive about the dock construction. It should be done by now, but I have my doubts.
Got hold of a friend who is staying at another friends house. Burgers, salad and some catching up. To bed. Roosters. Ahh shit.
Once again, the original, written on a bus. Kind of prefer the shorter version don't you?
I gathered stock of my quarters. The walls were unchinked small timbers, the ceiling of cana blanca, a small bamboo. The hardwood floor was graced solely with two beds, adequately outfitted with comfortable mattresses and adequate linen. A cat in heat merawled incessantly provoking a large dog into continuous deep throated barking. A brief interval of rest was attained to be interrupted by hundreds of cocks. This was a far cry from my peaceful refuge. I abandoned efforts at dawn.
As I write a few girls of unknown origin prepare coffee. I guess I will breakfast, head down to David and pop up into the mountains of Chiriqui in the town of Boquete. Perhaps dinner with a friend in Calderra at his ranch. I had passed by a few friends on the way out here, Charles in El Valle, Rudy and Ralph on the Pacific Coast.
Perhaps I shall catch up with some German girls on their way to stay with me and escort them home.
It is going to be a busy weekend, I am expecting four or five visitors, all young women, all German, two that live in San Jose and three that are traveling Central America. I guess I shall have to rent a boat capable of delivering the six of us to various destinations in the remote portions of the archipelago that I call home.
What next? Take up residence in a large house on Dolphin Bay situated on 25 acres of landscaping, ride horses and solicit guests for the spacious, well appointed cabins? Head to Southeast Asia? Who will I encounter in my travels? I mentioned Boracay, a charming young couple, two women mentioned that they are moving there. I've always wanted to see Indonesia, a girl that stayed with me a few months ago replied that she would be there in November and would love to travel with me. Phuket, Thailand, Bangor Wat in Cambodia? Give me great weather, clear waters, jungle, charming companionship and I could stay anywhere. Not too picky, that's a lot of world.
I run into people I know everywhere I go. When I first visited Panama it was not surprising to meet people time and again traveling the well trod routes from the beautiful tiny islands that compose the home of the Kuna Indians in Kuna Lana, to Panama City, again in Boquette and Bocas. But I have met people in off the beaten tracks and in distant countries. A man from Machu Pichu in the remotest jungles of the Amazon in Bolivia. Walking the streets of Caye Caulker in Belize with a high school buddy who lamented the paucity of women I encountered an English girl I had met years before on yet another remote island. In the trails of an Indian village in Veraguas I happened upon a farmer from the cocaine smuggling port of Colovobera. An Indian from Rio Luis, a town not frequented by white people called out my name as I was on the way to dinner with a group of people from Montana. At an airport in Lima, Peru another chance encounter.
A Canadian I met a year ago in the mountains of Veraguas Panama recognized me in David in February and gave me an update on Sante Fe a town of Indians with but fifteen gringos that claims a resident from my hometown,, one year my senior, a half square mile spot on the shores of Lake St. Clair, a 30 mile shallow pond through which water flows from Lake Huron to Lake Erie.
I got the lowdown on most of the inhabitants of Sante Fe. The builder from Austin who was to get construction going in a big way failed miserably. Residents parted with their money to be left with half constructed houses. He now sells hamburgers, too expensive for the Indians, shunned by the gringos in a town with but 10 beds for tourists.
Why am I telling you this? I don't know. I am just killing time, drinking coffee from a traditional coffee machine made out of three pieces of wood, a wire hoop and a sock like basket.
Breakfasted with, who else? A guy from Harrison Township, Michigan a retired General Motors executive and his girlfriend, living in Maui. They asked for travel advice. Sure, I'll show you around Bocas. See you next week.
One more cup of coffee and I am descending to David and popping up to Boquete to call on a couple I know maybe crash where they are staying, in a mutual friend's house. Maybe meet up with the trio and escort them to Bocas, maybe go solo. I am a bit apprehensive about the dock construction. It should be done by now, but I have my doubts.
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