Robbed Twice in One Day

A guest at my hostel got robbed at Aqua Lounge, his day pack was stolen. While skinny dipping in the bay with a hottie he met, his clothes were stolen, but his money belt fell in the bay. Aqua Lounge has no way to get to the island that I know of so these little bastards must have hopped the fence.

Some weasel stole a bike from in front of this place the day before I got here. I'm opening up the fences and going to have a dog on the back deck, now how do I stop somebody from poisoning it?

No Theroux

I don't have the benefit of writing after the fact. Paul Theroux and his ilk could publish their books after having left the continent. My story participants could knock on my door. The internet is real time and I am shocked at how many people read this drivel.



Here are my notes from my Pixvie trip, I'll flesh them out later.


Almirante, village trip, drinks on the sewer, indian girls delivery, louis and the chinese restaurant, silence on the disposition of the indian girls.

Professor's house.
No electricity, lights out.

Awakened 5:00
6:50 hit the water (what a bunch of jagoffs)
7:00 roosterfish
7:10 dolphins
7:25 fish on

cobalt blue water

816 people
200 work for the italian
166 in the elementary school
78 in junior high
no high school

Jorge owns the bouy

Road will reach Caledonia in 2011

Chester was honorary president of the carnival

Pargo, Salmon, Ensalada

---------------
22-2

Up at 5
Hit water at 6:15
Had to go back for lures and gas, cigars

7:10 rod to walter
7:15 fish o
7:45 jim
8:08 steve big pargo
8:20 jim salmon

"Fish on, Coksuka"
8:25 chester rod to Steve, "fish on"
9:45 bonito, Jim Lieing

Chester Salmon

Green, to purple to milky blue mountains

all salmon gravid

11:00 illegible
11:30 eone

12:30 up hill

3:25 - 3:50 3:50 at river
200 meters accross mangrove

4:07 hill will palm

Snook and Corvina

Crab eating oons

4:20 turn around 15 more minutes to road

5:20 back

can't raise cattle, sell for nothing

7:00 bar closed, evicted from kitchin

off tune singing

rain up at 6:00
dark show
no trace of rain
howler monkies
birds of many species chirped, twitter, illegible, warbled, whistled, parrots flew by.


great mango treets

cree cree cree

small waves surf sound

cofee coki 25 illegible water boiling

naked chicken with a patch of feathers

20' shark in bay
5 pound octopus on head
whitefin shark babies
whales circling cayucas
giant grouper eats mans leg

smoke the tuna on pineapple mangrove

black with tiger stripes rapalla
Negro tales

Hostal Hosi
RUC 9-141-54

11:00 head out
Green on west slope dark on east.

12:30 illegible
12:45 bridge
12:55 Sona


Las Lajas
San Felix
Tole
Remedoios
6566-xxxx

Las Lajas & Pan American

4:30 Bus stop
4:45 where is my tilly?

Call Stephen, Chester

Fried Plantain

illegible

5:15 Guy comes and claims my seat they take panamanian stool out of his chair and give him a cushion in the aisle and then we leave.



phone call las lajas garritia viaja gnobe with cell

7:08 pull up first phone no change phone with indian

7:15 I'm the only one at bus stop gas station bar 50 meters bus stop accross street

google earth, christian , fresh squeezed orange juice, mabel

retirementdetective.com soy, sawdust, desicatted cat excrement, hut, picture, hot ass fucking walk, slate sand beach 150 meters until horizon

doug brown

9:00 at bus stop
9:10 on line no ticket
2 panamanians push

Reading The Old Patagonian expres

italian at the italian restaurant, roberto

unreal

nefarious columbian no rent

paid my 2.25

10:220 asked for bus to bocas took bus to changinoula

finished first chapter

evilly bad speakers, must be ripped clear accross the cone playing music that couldn't be pleasant under the best of circumstances; horns and voices, like paper over a cone.

10:40 move outside window tray of sticky stuff


11:00 lost solo seat

dictionary

1:30 bigass indian next to me.

pull into almirante, cab, taxi, where are you staying? fuck you.

paint, website, wireless

Catching Up

I'm back in Bocas and have a great deal to post and many pictures to crop. I'll try to catch up a little at a time. So much went on in the last two weeks it will take a while to post. Please be patient.

Pixvia to Bocas

Thought I'd visit southeastern Chiriqui. Actually I was just following up on a promise to visit a couple that I met in Volcan. I'm really glad I came. Bocas can wait a couple of days.

I'm in Las Lajas, Chiriqui, two thirds of the way from Santiago to David on my way out of Pixvie, Veraguas which has been aptly defined as "a populated place on the Pacific side of Panama."

Three days in Pixvie will require 8,000 words to come close to describing. I'll have to wait until I get back to Bocas to articulate a reasonable approximation of the experience.

Rudy, my current host, has convinced me to stay here another day.

I now have the cooling of an electric fan, awesome. This town has electricity, paved roads and even internet. I am so spoiled.

Almarante Invasion

Three of the four horse men arrived unceremoniously via Bocas Marine Tours shuttle as Taxi 25 was still out of operation. We waddeled,shuffled and slogged to our diesel steed and rode it to the crazed Columbian, Louis. Louis answers every question inimitably and evasively. It is difficult to discern whether he fails to comprehend the question or if he is a master of circumlocution and redirection. "I want to see the Bay from the Mountain." "Do you want to see the gringo mansions?" "No, Louis, I want to see the FAAKING bay from the FAAKING mountain." "Do you want to see the mansions?" I bang my head on the window. Chester, please, help me out here. "It is too late to call on the fincas, perhaps we should see the mansions." Fuck me, with a stick, in the ass. Foot soup. Are you kidding me? Ahh shit, I'll pay for it. Really? Pig Knuckles and salt broth. I have died and gone to hell. Louis, you have lived far too long.

We ascend the hills over Almirante, escaping the putrid, vile, trash laden town and become one with the rain forest. Bananas, cocoa, and mangos all live in harmony, houses are nestled nearly indiscernably in the jungle.

Near the end of the road is an immaculate Gnobe town. Not a piece of litter anywhere. Gnobe towns in general are filthy, with trash smolderong trash strewn everywhere.

The next stop is Walter at Rio Septico a human excrement sludge factory.

We are warmly greeted. This place smells like a toilet. Drinks. I kid you not, a fifth of rum, a cup of ice and a can of coke. We are going to die. Lois makes a phone call. A 20 year old round faced Gnobe shows up, then a spherical Gnobe. "Call my mama!" No way. These girls are not pros? I couldn't do them for nothing.

The Chinese place was a trip, Louis banged on the tray, "these people are my clients" and he stormed out of the restaurant.

Carnival

No more internet. Carnival starts tomorrow. Mahem. Catholics are debauched.

Songs about Cats

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

Wrong Cat. Sail from Ft. Lauderdale to San Blas? Layover in Cuba?

Life before Carnival

Mackie says I have to move tomorrow, my room is booked for Carnival. Alan wants me to watch his house while he travels to Ecuador and Columbia. Jody and Dean have departed for the Pacific. Mario has left for San Blas and then Cartegena. A bud in Boquete wants me to watch his house while he is back in the states.

I want to run a 40' cat charter between San Blas and Categena, run a hostel in Volcan, another in Bocas, and an eco-lodge near Almirante. Oh yeah and program on the side.

What am I going to do when I grow up?

Should I run a resort in the mountains? ATV from Boquette to Volcan?

An Eco Resort in Bocas?

Run a cat from Bocas to Catagena?

Need lots of fresh talent in kibinis.

Quetzel Trail

Seven in the morning found me awake in bed, annoyed by the barking dog across the street. I walked down to the typico (typical, local food) and had an omelette and coffee for $1.65 and the walked back to the hotel. As I was uploading some pictures, Mackie, the owner, who is about to burst with a son waddled up. We chatted for a bit and she inquired about Juan Salizar, the Bocas Wharf Rat. I relayed tales of his Bocas adventures, which in no way surprised her but did amuse her.

As Chester is in town I gave him a call. He was in a meeting and had been requested to cook for a party for one of the cast from Little House on the Prairie and 50 friends, so he was tied up for the day, but we agreed to get together tomorrow morning.

The morning was wiled away with posting pictures, reading email and surfing the web. The aclock ticked passed 11:30 so I packed up for my noon meeting with Dean and Jody to walk the Quetzel trail. With five minutes to spare (I hate being late) I approached their lodge to find them exiting the drive. "What the hell, you're leaving without me?" Jody replied, "I couldn't hear you last night and Dean was past it, so we thought that maybe we agreed to meet at Amigos." We walked to the town center and hailed a cab, got in, thought he was over charging us and got out.

We walked a couple of blocks to town center and hailed a cab. A young asian couple made steps toward the cab. As they were waiting in front of the bus stop, we thought that they were waiting on a bus. We indicated that we were going to Quetzel Trail and agreed to share the cab. Once again, I was assigned the front seat and the other four squeezed into the rear seat of the small sedan.

The ride to the trail was longer than we expected, the Lonely Planet obviously had bad information and we felt bad about our treatment of the previous cab driver. Upon arrival we paid the driver our $2 each. The friendly rangers took the $5 entry fee and showed us the map. It was apparently 8 km to Cerro Punta. Our round trip drive on Thursday was 300 km.

This trail was like an M.C. Escher drawing, uphill all the way on a closed circuit. Returning to the ranger station we were advised that there was a 20 minute walk to the bus stop to catch a ride into town. I guess these people tuck there heads between their knees and roll down the hill. It would been 10 minutes on a bike as it was downhill all the way, but it took us 45 minutes to reach the bus stop. After 20 minutes of waiting we resume hiking and finally flagged down a van that moved its cargo and drove us to town.

We were informed that Saturday night is fight night in Boquette and that we could watch fisticuffs in the alley behind the grocery store. I walked home and took a nap that lasted 8 hours.

It is 3:30 in the morning, so rather than describe the walk, I'll just post the pictures.

Boquette

On Monday, a group from Lost and Found took a tour to the petroglyphs and hot springs on the way to Boquette. Ben, the consumate peckerhead, retained his title, continually and arrogantly spouting disdain and nonsense. Arriving at the petroglyphs he felt the need to climb the rocks and stand on the ancient carvings.

Mario and I checked into Villa Verde while the rest of the group stayed at Mamallena. I prefer the spacious private rooms at Villa Verde for $15 a night. If you come, make sure you bring your own toilet paper and soap. At 7:30 I told Mario I was going to take a nap. The nap lasted until 7:00 Tuesday morning when I was awakened by the sounds of cocks, dogs, traffic, and the strong sun light pouring in the many windows. I spend most of the day taking care of business over the internet.

Around noon the sleepy Austrian showed his face and we went out for lunch. I told him I had a copy of a computer based Spanish course and he wanted a copy so we started the transfer process back at the hostel. I took one of his backpacks and 3 bags and walked him over to Mamallena. The attraction for Mario were that Mamallena is right in the center of town, cheaper and had a large quantity of travel guides.

My friends from San Blas, Jody and Dean sent me an email indicating that they were in Boquette and we agreed to meet at El Centro at 6:30. It appeared as though it would take an hour to transfer the 3 GB of data to his box so we headed off to Paradise Gardens, arriving at 3:00 which left us but an hour to enjoy this animal rescue sanctuary. We walked back, stopped at Fresa Mary and had some wonderful strawberries with whipped cream and a pretty dreadful cheeseburger. It was 5:30 by the time we walked back. Mario collected his notebook computer and moved back to Mamallena.

I walked up to the El Centro at exactly 6:30 and was met by Jody who informed me that she suspected I was an extremely punctual person and that she had only come out of the bar 2 minutes earlier to wait for me. At 9:00 they had to head back before the taxis shut down for the night and I walked home. At Moreno's supermarket, I ran into the Dutch women from Lost and Found, who it turns out were also staying at Mamallenas and noted that Sam and Mario were there also. I said "so is dickhead" to which one responded laughingly "Ben?".