The road to nowhere.

The time had come to leave Bocas. With the weather sucking, we wanted to leave with a good memory and, the shark was as good as it was going to get (as scary as it was). Our next stop was David about half way to Panama City. David was Panama’s second biggest city but the big attraction was outside of town in the mountain cloud forest. However, we’d already done the cloud forest in Costa Rica, and were a bit lost for what we were going to do there. But it was the halfway point between Bocas and Panama City and that was good enough for now.

Of course the day we decided to give up on Bocas, the sun threatened to make an appearance. For the first time in 4 days we actually saw a bit of blue between the clouds. Go figure. But it wasn’t enough to make us stick around. The improved weather meant that the boat ride was smooth and easy. From the dock we caught a taxi to the bus stop just outside of town on the highway. The bus was actually a mini van but comfortable and good thing too because the roads through the mountains were pretty twisty and turny.

In David we were let off at the bus station and had to flag down a cab (no really, we weren’t swarmed for the first time in, well, ever). And the price was so good I expected to be baited and switched once we arrived at the hostel. But no. It was $3 and stayed $3. Hmm. Panama was starting to look up.

The hostel was located in a residential area and actually looked like a house, well a student house. But our room had a private bath, tv and air conditioning which is better than any room I had when I was a student. The hostel also offered tours, well on paper, however, it was low season so they gave us a tour company pamphlet instead. We took it with us to McDonalds which Adrian demanded we eat at since spotting it during the cab ride in. Doctor Adrian convinced me to go by telling me that if anything was going to clog up my stomach, it would McDonald’s. So we joined the hundred’s of locals and their families for Sunday dinner at McDonald’s and studied our tour choices. There was lots of choice with most of the tours involving some combination of horse or jeeps, hot springs, hikes and coffee farms. We decided to do the cheapest option which was $35 for just the hot springs. And booked it before going to bed.

The next morning, another hostel employee, changed my mind. He told me I was crazy to do the tour to the hot springs when it was super easy to get there on our own and a whole lot cheaper – in fact free. Well, free is something I like. So once I prodded Adrian awake we decided to cancel the tour. The other employee didn’t seem to pleased but I told him to take it up with his co-worker. We were off to soak in some hot springs.

Of course, the bus company had another plan. The bus to the hot springs was supposed to leave every hour. But we’d either just missed one or the schedule had changed because we waited for an hour and a half. No worries; there were cages of cute chicks to amuse us until the bus to Caldera eventually arrived and we got on. However, the trip was an hour and half (not 45 minutes Lonely Planet) which was beginning to eat into our hot springs time. Still no worries. When we got to the turn off, the bus driver signaled to us and we got off. Before we walked off a little voice told me to double check when the last bus was back to David. In an hour and a half the driver replied as he closed the door and drove away to double check. Now this should have been no worries too, except the hot springs were at least a 30 minute hike away, which would leave us very little time for the hot springs. We started the hike down the hot, dusty, deserted side road through some very pretty countryside. After 20 minutes we found ourselves on a huge construction site where some sort of aqueduct and bridge was being built. We found our way around it and after another 15 minutes of hiking up and down hills we spotted another sign (photo above) just over a bridge. The hot springs were another 500 metres away. Uphill. That was it. Our desire for the hot springs was gone, replaced by a need to catch the last bus to town and an extreme thirst.

The only witnesses to our failed attempt were the hundreds of cows that lined the road. So when I finally had to give in to my bladder, I chose a small rock by the side of the road and asked Adrian to keep a look at for cars. Of course as soon as I start to pee, Adrian screamed "Car!" a little too late. I’m pretty sure I gave the car load of construction workers a good show. Oh well. I’m glad someone had a good laugh.

We got back to the highway with 10 minutes to spare – good thing we didn’t try to get to the hot springs. But it was good that we were early because with a crack of thunder, it began to pour. There was a deserted store with an overhang and a step where we waited for the bus joined by a couple of stray dogs and some chickens all trying to keep dry too. No worries, the dry bus would be here soon. Or not. It was another hour until the bus finally pulled up. Which meant we could have enjoyed the hot springs after all. Although we would have been drenched on the walk back. But rather than admit our defeat, we gave the hot springs a thumbs up to the staff of the hostel. There was no need for everyone to know about our trip on the road to nowhere (except you guys, of course).

Shark attack.

When I was far too young I saw Jaws. Ever since then I’ve had both a fascination and extreme fear of sharks. I loved watching nature programs about them but could also freak myself out in a swimming pool imagining that there was a shark in there somewhere – like freak myself out to the point of having to get out of the pool. One of the reasons I decided to finish my certification in Utila was that I’d read that there were sharks further down the coast. I figured that I already had enough stress on my hands with that silly mask skill and didn't need to throw sharks into the mix. Now that I had the certification, I’d forgotten about the possibility that we might meet a shark while diving. How quickly it would come back to me.

In the morning, I tried to have breakfast but my stomach was still doing flip flops. I wasn’t sure if that was my nerves or the remnants of my stomach bug. What ever it was I decided to skip lunch so I’d be okay on the dive. Plus, the sea was looking pretty rough and I didn’t spend my time on the boat hanging our the edge throwing up.

At the dive centre, we met our divemaster, Leandro, and the other guy diving with us, Michael from Denmark. He had all his equipment and I assumed he was a hardcore diver but he’d just finished his certification in Norway and all his equipment is brand new for the trip. In fact, he spent most of the briefing interrupting to ask how to work his dive computer and bcd. The British have a saying that sums him up: All the gear but no idea. Thankfully, Leandro, although he looked about 12, was calm and experienced and patient. My relief was soon replaced by worry when I saw the boat. It was small and I immediately worried about how I’d get back in it after the dive and, more importantly, how it was going to stay afloat in the day’s big waves. Leandro told me not worry and pointed to the small ladder being loaded on. Okay, so that was one concern taken care of but the waves weren’t going anywhere. Sure enough, as we headed out to the dive site called the Garden, the small boat was tossed about and we were fully airborne at least twice. It was a bit too much excitement for me. But it was just the beginning.

In order to get under the water where it was much bound to be much calmer, I had to attempt a back boat entry. I'm not scared of it now. But that first time I was terribly frightened and sat on the edge of the boat hanging on for dear life. Leandro suggested I could put all my equipment on in the water. But I saw the huge waves and quickly decided to take the backward plunge. Even with a flotation device holding us up, the waves continued to crash over us and we submerged as soon as possible to escape them. Unfortunately, the visibility wasn’t the greatest and the reef looked a little lackluster thanks to all the silt but we did see some small rays, lots of parrot fish and a whole bunch of sea cucumbers which looked like giant alien slugs. It was so relaxing and calm under the water that when we resurfaced I had forgotten just how crazy the waves were. But they worked in my favour, pushing me up out of the water and into the boat.

The worst was far from over. On our nailbiting trip back to the dive centre to get new tanks. Michael made the mistake of sitting at the front of the boat. After one too many times of being thrown up in the air, his butt was more than sore so he climbed over the benches further back into the boat. Thankfully, while the new tanks were loaded back into the boat, the wind shifted and the waves calmed down. YAY!!!!!

We headed back out to our second dive site with the uninspired name of 05. I wasn’t expecting much especially since Leandro told us we wouldn’t see anything at first. So I was surprised when we got under the water. The visibility was better. The coral was in better shape. And there were tonnes more fish. Halfway through our dive, Leandro pointed over to an overhang of coral. He made a hand signal, one I’d never seen before. I looked over expected to see another fish. There was nothing. I looked again and then realized what he was pointing at. It wasn’t a small colourful fish; it was a gigantic 2 metre, grey-coloured shark lurking under the overhang. My heart jumped up into my throat and as my momentum carried me towards the coral and the shark, I tried to swim backwards. When that failed I peeled off from the front of the group to the back, and hoped if Jaws got hungry it would pick someone else off first (not Adrian of course). Leandro all but laughed at me, and when I looked back at the shark, it hadn’t moved and appeared to sleeping. Okay so Jaws wasn’t going to make lunch out of one of my limbs today but I didn’t dare get any closer. Even as we swam away along the reef, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following us. I think we saw some pretty amazing fish too, but all I could remember was the outline of Jaws under the coral.

Once we were safely back in the boat, Leandro informed us it was a nurse shark and almost completely harmless. Instead of rows of razor sharp teeth as big as our hands, it has a gummy denture-free mouth. I was still a little shaky having come face-to-face to a childhood fear but Adrian decided that he really likes diving now. Appropriately, we had fish and chips for dinner that night. Too bad the fish wasn’t shark; maybe eating one would help me get over my fear of being eaten by one.

Rainy days in Bocas always get me down.

it never got better than this.

“Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in” that was the way I felt at the moment. I thought I’d cleared up the stomach bug after the visit to the hospital in Cahuita. But I was still suffering. And for those of you keeping count, it had been over a week – otherwise known a really long freaking time to be throwing up. I did a little investigation and found out that the antibiotics I was taking had the same side effects as the stomach virus. I also discovered that I had been given two rounds. So I stopped taking them once I finished the first round and crossed my fingers that the grossness would stop.

The good thing was that the lack of appetite was keeping our food budget way, way down. The bad thing is that it meant I couldn’t meet up with the friend of the friend who’d given us so many amazing tips about Bocas. It also meant we couldn’t enjoy most of the things she suggested we do. But even if I had been 100%, the weather was in on the conspiracy. It was absolute crap. Since we got off the boat three days ago it had been pouring constantly. Not the best thing when you’re in a beach town/Caribbean island. Grr.

All this icky stuff really hadn’t done much to improve my opinion about Bocas. And since the other islands were beach islands too there was no point in moving. But rather than dwell on the lemons, we decided to make lemonade. Since the weather was wet, we’d go scuba diving.

We headed out to the dive centre we’d visited previously and signed up to go out the next afternoon. Since it was my first time going out after certification so I was nervous. An email from the friend of the friend didn’t help. She let me know that the swell was coming in tomorrow morning. I had no idea what that meant but she explained that that was the reason for the crappy weather and meant that the sea was going to be quite rough tomorrow. Gulp.

Risking our lives to cross the border.

not our picture but i was too scared to dig my camera out

Cabinas Safari’s motto is your home away from home and it was. Although our time in Cahuita had been stressful, the awesome folks not just at the hotel but throughout town had made it one of my favourite places. However, today we were moving on to Panama.

We were close to the border but because our destination was Bocas del Toro, a group of island off the shore, it was not going to be easy to get there. But thanks to an awesome website I found and emails from a friend of a friend living on one of the islands, I had a clue how to do it and what to it expect. There was one comment from the friend that did puzzle me. “Be forewarned about the bridge crossing b/w CR and Panama,” she wrote with no further details. Curious and curiouser. I guess we’d find out soon enough.

At the bus station we used the bank machine to take out American dollars which are the local currency in Panama (although they still call them Balboas, handy). Then hoped on the bus to Sixiola. The ride was relatively short and the town was just as small. Just a couple of stores beside the river. We walked to the Costa Rican border control where we were stamped out of the country by a border guard who didn’t even look up at us. The next step was the Panamanian border control on the other side of the river. Getting there involved crossing the bridge and once we stepped on it, I understood the reason for the cryptic email message. The bridge was an old railway bridge, meaning that it wasn’t made for foot traffic. Instead there were wooden slats with huge gaps between them revealing the river below. At some point in time, wooden planks had been lain down on top of them to make it easier to walk but they were half rotten and no longer nailed down. On the Panamanian side I was surprised to see heavy trucks lined up waiting to drive across. I know I wouldn’t want to drive across it. I didn’t even want to walk across it. Walking without packs would have been a challenge in itself but with packs our centre of gravities were thrown off and we walked very slowly and very deliberately and made it across in one piece.

Now we had to deal with immigration and that proved as challenging as the bridge. The woman at the office wouldn’t let us in until we had proof of exit from Panama. Luckily, there was a bus ticket office across the street. It was just a shack, and I’m not even sure there were buses but they sold us two tickets for $20 to prove we were leaving Panama. Part of me can’t help but wonder if this is some scam run by the immigration lady but I swear I’m not a conspiracy theorist. We headed back to the lady expecting to be stamped in. But not yet. Next she sent us to another office to buy our official tourist card for $5. Only once we had all that did she stamp our passports and welcome us to Panama.

Once that was done, the money changers swarmed us. We changed our remaining colones to dollars and the rate wasn’t too bad. One of the touts then tried to shuttle us onto the $15 “bus”. It was clearly marked turismo and is a minivan. I told him I wanted the public bus and he again tried to convince me his tourist van was the public bus. I spotted the real bus around the corner and told him that’s where we were going. He then changed tactics. He called out “it’s not going where you want to” so I pointed to the sign in the bus’ window that said it was. “It’s too dangerous” he called out. We ignored him and began boarding. “You’ll have to take a taxi to change buses. It’s too much money.” He was still shouting after us as the bus drove away. We paid 75 cents for the first half of the journey to Changuinola where we changed buses. And then it was another $1.50 for the second half to Almirante. $15 my ass.

Once we were in Almirante the drive signaled to us that we were at our stop which is the docks. We follow the rest of the passengers (all locals a good sign) to the water taxi office. The boat ride costs just $4 each which surprises me considering our other boat trips had been so much more. I soon realized why. Bocas wasn’t some far away island chain. It was a group of islands just thirty minutes from town or 10 minutes from land. It was also bigger than I imagined it. Yet once we stepped off the boat it was exactly what I imagined and feared. It was very built up with cars and roads which also manages to give it a run down and seedy feeling somewhere between Belize and Utila. Of course coming from the peace and quiet of Cahuita I was bound to be disappointed.

In such a touristy place, there were also a lot of touts, one of whom begins following us as soon as we step on the dock. He tries to get us to his hostel but armed with reco’s from the friend of a friend who lives in town I tried to shake him. He still followed us to the place and as luck would have it, it was closed for renovations. While Adrian and I try to decide where to go next, ignoring the touts pitch of his “friends” place, we are rescued by a woman. She was the maid at the hostel we’re standing in front of but now she was working around the corner and she says they have room. We follow her. The Estrella de Bocas hotel (yup a hotel not a hostel) looks really nice. It was $25, has a private bath and a tv. With that last point, Adrian was already unpacking. I left the tout as he asked the owner for a commission but closed the door before I could find out if he succeeded.

When we left to the hotel to explore the town, I expected the tout to still be there. Luckily he was gone. But our trip around town took just 30 minutes and was still disappointing. The clouds had rolled in casting a grey pall over the town and the line ups of hotels, and tourist greasy spoons are a bit depressing. Since we didn’t need dinner (we still had lots of pizza left over from the night before), we popped into a dive centre. Thanks to a relationship with our schools in Utila we would get a 10% discount on our dives. Sounds like a plan. I told the guy we’d be back in tomorrow to book something once my stomach bug has cleared. He said he understood as he was recovering too. Oh great, the virus was here too.

That leaves only bars left to check out and since I still couldn’t drink we decided to pass. It was back to the hotel to chill out in front of the tv. After our death-defying walk across the border and yesterday’s trip to the hospital, I think we deserved it.