The wheels on the bus go round and round...

Day 22, Saturday, July 28

Our boat out of here is leaving at 6, so Beth and I get up at 5 to pack and throw away anything we are not taking home. Lugging the suitcase to the boat isn’t quite the chore it has been, perhaps because I know I only have to do it a couple more times. Neither one of us is hungry, so we get to the dock very early. Never mind, the boat leaves soon enough, and the boat ride isn’t too bad. It is a bit cold, but my mind is focused on getting back to San Jose.

I listen to Sarah Harmer on the bus ride back to Cariari. It’s good to reconnect with her. There is a tour boat leaving the dock as we arrive, but I don’t feel bad: I did more than enough here. We’ve done tours; we’ve been adventurous. Now it is time to go home.

The bus from Cariari to Guapiles is not a pleasant experience. The roads are a bit holey (haha), and I feet a bit sick most of the time. I drift most of the bus ride back to San Jose, but heaven knows I am just glad to be there. Arriving in San Jose is a breath of semi-fresh air. When did San Jose become home? I don’t know, but I think I love it. We lug our bags to the hotel Pangea, set up by Beth’s awesome skills, and rejoice. We are done carrying these bags. From here we get a car to the airport. But that’s not till tomorrow.

We leave our bags at Pangea and head out to the San Pedro mall. As we walk, we talk about all the reasons we’re going to miss Costa Rica, and more specifically, how we’ll miss San Jose. It’s really grown on us. At the mall, we go to Wendy’s and the book store and just walk around. I get some Pops sometime later, before we finally decide to head back to Pangea.

Less than five seconds off the bus, Beth stops dead in her tracks. I turn around, but she just shakes her head, laughs a little and starts walking again. “I just got pick pocketed,” she remarks, as if the idea were little more than an annoying prank. My eyes get huge, and I struggle to keep up. “What?!” But although Beth is a bit upset (she lost like $40 in colones), she seems somewhat detached. I think she is just ready to go home. Ditto para mi.

Back at Pangea, we get the key to our room, and Beth makes a call to her parents to cancel her debit card (which also got picked up). Then we nap for a bit. As I come to, I hear Beth chatting with the girls in our room. There is a teacher who seems eager to get home, a Princeton student who has been down here teaching soccer, as well as a few other interesting characters. These girls are hardcore, and I just think: could I do this all by myself? Would I have made it all this time and way without Beth? Probably not. Besides that, what am I doing with this traveling? I’m bettering myself. But what am I giving back? With this trip: nothing.

I take my computer out to the lobby to charge it and to type up Monday’s blog. After a bit, I wander up to the second floor where there is a bar and internet. I put up Monday’s blog and return some e-mails. As I have been the last couple of days, I am again very aware of how ready I am to be home. I’m getting hungry, so I go downstairs to collect Beth for dinner. I chat with this high school girl for awhile before we eat, and then we settle in for some chicken fajitas and cloud picture taking a la Beth.

Our plan for the morrow is to go back to Cartago and go to church – only the second time we’ll go since we’ve been here. I loved my last trip to Cartago, and I really want Beth to see it. However, we can’t find mass times on the internet, so we decide we’ll just get up at eight and head over to see what we see. By this time it is ten, and I am exhausted, so I head back to the room.

I am peeling! Uck, I feel like an onion. This makes sense, as I am beginning to sour a bit. I need to perk up and enjoy my last day here!

Despite my sleepiness, I start Tuesday’s blog and listen to music for a bit before crashing. But even that comes sooner than expected.

Ninjas on the half shell... turtle power!

Day 21, Friday, July 28

Two days. Two days. Two days.

Today we are going to see turtles. That’s about the extent of our planning. I wake up and read for a bit. It’s nice to not have to run to go on a tour. I am so ready to go home. No, that thought is not random; it has been invading my mind since we got here yesterday. It’s not that I don’t like Tortuguero... it’s just hot... and, well, I don’t need a reason. I want to go home. I miss people. And it’s so close!

We get a knock on our door as we’re getting ready, and an older lady tells us that even though we made our reservation for three nights, a big group is coming tomorrow, and all the rooms are full. So we can only stay through tonight. What? Well, there is nothing we can do, so we just pay for our two nights and set out to find another place to stay. We walk down to the Hotel Mariscar, where I attempt to set up a reservation with a man in a hammock who isn’t too particularly interested in our presence. That settled, we walk to a little bakery I read about for breakfast. The very nice owner sits us out back under the shade of some plants (for which we are grateful – the heat is already oppressive, despite the early hour).

Over a breakfast of pancakes and fruit (Beth orders gallo pinto y huevos) we discuss our options. What else are we going to do here for two days? We are going to go turtle watching tonight, but what else do we want to do? I really want to get souvenirs, and I’m not positive I have enough money for a day tour... and I’m not sure I want to do one. Beth isn’t either, and when I mention that being kicked out of our room might be a sign to go back to San Jose, she perks up. That really does sound like a good idea. I mean, Tortuguero is nice, but we know San Jose. We know what we can do, and it’s cooler. Suddenly our spirits our up – we’re going home! And strangely enough, San Jose has become home. I mean, we’re really really ready to go home, but coming back to San Jose for our last day here is the next best thing.

So we walk down the street and book our turtle tour for tonight. He tells us that they do a lottery for the times, so he won’t know what time we are going until six. So we’ll come back at six. We walk to an internet place in order to make reservations at Pangea (another hostel in San Jose that my book raves about) for tomorrow night. The internet is way slow and kicks us off twice, but we are able to make the reservation. And that’s all that matters. So the plan now is to take the boat back to San Jose tomorrow; hang out there; go to Cartago for church Sunday morning (I want Beth to see the beautiful Basilica); go to the mall for the afternoon; then airport and home! Yay! We’re excited.

We head back to the room, fully intending to nap, but instead get engaged in conversation with a nice woman from Seattle. She is forty-one, but she feels much younger. We end up just hanging out on the benches outside our rooms and talking. We talk about kids (she is a social worker): Fact: Only 100 children per year are kidnapped nationally by strangers. The rest are domestic cases (moms and dads taking kids). We talk about experience versus stuff people, and how they don’t work well in relationships. She’s not just spouting crap here people; I know. It’s hard to appreciate each other when you don’t appreciate the same things. Then we talk about travel and how the experience and desire to travel has a lot to do with how you grow up. I love traveling, but it doesn’t come easy to me... or Beth. We both grew up in households that did very little traveling (the most I got were my very frequent within state trips for baseball tournaments). For me, this has only made my desire grow, but it has made the reality a bit jarring. Our Seattle friend grew up in a family that constantly moved (like many military families), so she says that she doesn’t know any other way. To stay in one place is an adventure for her (she has lived in Seattle three years – the longest she has lived in one address in her 41 years).

Nuestra nueva amiga sale por la playa, so we gather our stuff and go buy some souvenirs! I know this is silly, but I actually get really excited buying people gifts. I think about what it will be like when I give it to them, how they will react. That’s probably why I am afraid to actually watch people open them. What if they hate them? I know I shouldn’t even care... but I like to give. And today I realize that I get to give a lot. I have a bit more money than I thought, so I buy a few gifts that I hadn’t anticipated getting to buy. It’s pretty exciting.

After shopping, we hit up the same little bakery we went to for breakfast for some ice cream (me) and tres leches (Beth). It is so very hot here. After enjoying our break from the sun, I pick up a couple more things, and we go back to the room. I hang out on Beth’s bed (it is under the fan) and knit (which is strange to do in the heat) and read while she naps. When the hour hits six, we go check our turtle time, which apparently isn’t until 10. So we have four hours to kill. Okay.

So how about some dinner? Well, neither one of us is hungry, so we go back to the playground like dock and talk (while I knit). So here is what has been going through my mind, and Beth and I have talked about this, so I don’t feel mean putting it here. I’m tired of Beth in all the ways you get tired of someone you’ve spent a whole week with alone. Little things are bothering me, things I don’t need to be specific about as they are things that don’t usually bother me at home. Even though they bother me a lot here, I know they are not important, not in the long run. I’d rather be here with her than with anyone else I suppose, but it is tiring nonetheless. We are both soooo ready to be home, and with our desperation, it actually speaks very well for our friendship that we haven’t gotten in a fight (Beth says that she doesn’t think we could get in a fight, and she may be right). But we need to get home soon. ;p

Finally hunger does come, and we walk to another place my book recommends, the Buddah Cafe, for pizza and coke. It is a nice little tourist place, and though it takes a long time to get our food, our vegetarian pizza is delicious (no sausage and broccoli – gross Hannah). My favorite part of the restaurant is this huge poster right behind our table. It is a love letter to nature and a pledge to cherish it always. But the wording; I just wish I could remember all of the phrases. But here are two: “I want to give an acorn an orgasm,” and “I want to stroke a shark, but maybe I’ll just wave hello from the shore.” I love it.

After dinner, we go back to room to change, and I knit for a bit. Then, at 9:45, we walk back to the tour place to meet our group. From here we begin our walk through the National Park to see turtles. Unfortunately, se me he olvidado mis gafas, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to see them. But I should not have worried. These turtles are very large. Our guide speaks Spanish, but he has a friend of his there translating. Most of the time I catch what our guide says, but there are times I am thankful for the translation. Our group consists of two inquisitive Irish girls (one originally from Kenya – she has cool turtle stories from there) whom ask many questions to our great benefit and a German family whose daughter is interested but whose son spends most of the time sleeping on the sand. And he’s not little. If your ten year old is going to lay down with twenty people around trying to discreetly (and sometimes not so discreetly) watch turtles, leave him at home.

The first turtle we see has already laid her eggs and is in the process of camouflaging the nest. We watch her fill for a while before our guide moves us to the side so another group can look. Beth read in some book that once you see the turtles you have to leave, so I’m thinking... is that it? Do we have to leave now? Thankfully, we don’t. Instead our guide tells us all about the turtles that inhabit this island; never have I heard such a tragic tale. Firstly, there are the predators that feed on eggs. In Tortuguero the turtles face a natural predator of jaguars and a less natural predator of dogs. I have come to truly detest stray dogs. They are everywhere in Costa Rica, and here they pose a special threat. There is a law here that all dogs must be kept on a chain or a rope, but as our guide so obviously points out, few people actually take care of their dogs. It makes me angry.

So, obviously hatching is a feat. Then they have to make it to the ocean. Here waiting for the little ones are not mothers and fathers, ready to show them the world, but rather sharks and other predatory fish, ready to show them their stomachs. Adversity number two.

Number three? Well, think about the facts. With all the trouble of just growing, it is little wonder that only one in a hundred survives to adulthood. Can you imagine? I mean, it makes since as to why they lay so many eggs, and those who survive truly have earned the right to live. Which makes this last test so awful. Turtles have a lifespan roughly like that of humans; some can live to be in their eighties. Yet few do. For the last and greatest predators of this great and endangered species is us. You saw it coming, but that makes the truth no less harsh. Humans poach these giant turtles (which can grow to be a meter in circumference and close to 800 lbs for green turtles) for their shells and the meat. Should you be the one in a hundred to survive and then die of old age; well, it seems that is tragically unimaginable.

Apparently there is another turtle on the beach that has been digging her nest, and we actually get to see her giving birth. She certainly seems to be sweating it, each breath short and labored as she contracts again and again. Our guide says that while she is in this trance, we can lift her flipper softly without disturbing her. I love this opportunity, and I am relieved she is not bothered by our presence. But watching this gets me thinking: is it harder to shove more than a hundred little eggs out of a rather small hole or one very large offspring? I mean, go turtle, but damn... poor humans. Giving birth... I’ll happily wait to enjoy that miracle.

Just as we are about to leave the park, the turtle that was covering her nest when we first arrived descends down the beach to the water. She moves slowly, pushing along the sandy surface with every last reserve of her strength. We all crowd behind her, a paparazzi sans cameras, watching as she gains the sea. The waves grow around her until finally, with one great tide, she disappears beneath the water. When the waves clear, she is gone. And now it is time to leave.

We talk with our new Irish friends as we head back to our hotel and say our goodbyes at the split. I am so thrilled to get to take a shower when we get back that I barely notice how late it is. But I do notice that I am peeling. I feel like I’m losing all my color – whether it is from fading or flaking off. Beth says that I’m still pretty dark underneath, but I don’t think so. It may sound silly, but I’m rather afraid that I have gotten this dark just to shed it all before I go home... or my birthday. It’s hard for me to get dark; I wanna keep it! Okay, wining done.

I climb into bed, but there is no way I can sleep. So instead I type up my day and try to let my mind wander. It is after one, and we have to get up at five to leave, so I really should sleep. And though it takes quite a few daydreams and deep rooted conversations, sleep does finally come.

No, I just learned my Spanish for fun.

Day 20, Thursday, July 26

So. Last night I got to know the people in our dorm room. There are a couple of guys from Texas, one of which asked me to charge his iPod. This isn’t a big deal... except that it was the closest I came to mingling with my fellow travelers. Go me. Anywho, it’s a little weird that most of the people in our dorm are guys, but this doesn’t really bother me. It’s just one of the guys. The one that is sick... and smells of alcohol... and spends all night coughing and running in and out of the room... and I have to get up at 4:55. Needless to say, I’m in a pretty foul mood come morning. Thankfully, I can pack very quickly if I need to, so we are out of the room and the hostel by 5:30. Goodbye Tranquilo, hello Tortuguero.

We walk to the CocaCola station (grr... suitcase... grr) and buy our tickets to Cariari. The bus there isn’t all that long (about two hours), so I just read. Then we take another bus to Pavona, where we catch a boat to the coast. The boat trip lasts FOREVER... and it’s hot... really hot... and the river is brown. It’s interesting, and I would enjoy it a lot if this was our first week here, but now... I’m just tired. Finally we pull up to Tortuguero (after making a dozen stops), and I am actually pretty surprised. I was expecting something a little more like Bocas – a small town spread around a center street. Instead, Torteguero is smaaaaaaall town America. The “roads” are dirt paths just wide enough to walk, a reality I love despite the fact that I have to carry my suitcase down them. Our hotel isn’t too far from the dock though, and soon we are dropping our stuff in a small room at the Hotel Aracari. And the room is small... and hot. Actually, it’s just really hot here. I know we’ve been spoiled with our San Jose weather, but now we realize: this is what it will be like in Arkansas. But in AR we have air conditioning. :)

We’re a bit hungry, so we walk down the path to a little soda/bar and order some gallo pinto. Oh gallo pinto. How I’ll miss thee. Beth swears she’s going to learn to make it, so perhaps I won’t have to miss it too much. :) The owner keeps talking to us in English, which is the same problem we had in Panama. They’re so overpopulated with tourists that they just assume we won’t know Spanish. I try to speak Spanish back, but when they talk to me in English, it catches me off guard, and I end up sounding rather ridiculous.

After lunch we decide to take care of this tiredness issue. Only I’m not a good napper. So I sleep for like three hours, and when I wake up, I’m more tired than before. We want to pay for the room but can’t find our dueña, so we wander into town to have a look-see. We find a grocery store and get some water and some more bread. Then we browse some souvenir shops. Beth hasn’t bought many gifts yet, and I have a few more I need, so we plan to come back tomorrow. I talk to a nice lady (who is so thankful we speak Spanish!) at a souvenir stand and make a note to come back tomorrow.

A little further down the path through town we find an area that is slightly developed. Hay muchas turistas aqui as well as some rather creepy giant birds on poles. The whole area reminds me of a colorful playground, but it is a lovely place to watch the sunset, which Beth and I do. We talk for awhile, and I pleasantly reflect on the fact that Beth and I haven’t killed each other yet. In the words of Beth: that’s always good. :)

Back in the room – I eat some dinner (can you guess what?) and we watch an episode of Ugly Betty. The episode we watch ends up being a bit depressing, but it does excite me about the coming season. Then I take a shower. Our bathroom light doesn’t work, so I have to leave the door open, and it still creeps the hell out of me. The shower is big, and I don’t like water and dark. They do not mix. Thankfully the light comes on just as I start shaving – I didn’t really want to attempt that one in the dark.

I can’t really dry off, so I sit around in my towel and type while Beth takes her shower. I put my pictures from Panama on my computer and bind off my headband (a technique I looked up on the internet last night – I need a crochet hook or needle to finish it off, so I have to leave the last two loops open for now). There is this crazy dog outside that is really loud and yipping in a high pitched bark. Think I could shoot it without getting caught? Because I’m considering it.

Even with the annoying perro, I am able to sleep after reading for awhile. And it is blessed. Now bring on the turtles.

Travel, explore, document; repeat.

Day 19, Wednesday, July 25^th

Okay. Border crossing – here we go. This is my thought as I wake around six and finish packing to leave Panama. The cross into Panama was a nightmare (as I’m sure you remember), so I’m prepared for the worst. We drag our bags out to the boat to Changinola and pay for the trip. Thus follows a rather easy departure from the lovely country. We are traveling with some girls from Canada, and we all get to Sixaola together and get our passports stamped. They are traveling on their own as well, just some more of the really cool people we have met. This border crossing is so much easier because we are left alone for the most part. There are none of those pesky kids running around trying to take your bags. Either they’re all in school or it’s too early in the day. I’m fine with that.

We don’t have to wait long for a bus to San Jose. When we get on we realize that this bus is basically empty. It is lovely. Beth and I can both have our own seats, so I stretch out and relax. I sleep for a bit, but I really want to knit. I don’t know how to end my headband, so I just start the scarf behind it. I can practice I suppose.

We eat breakfast/lunch on the bus – PB&J and cheese crackers. Sound familiar? I’m pretty sure I’m not going to want another PB&J for months. After food I read for awhile and sleep a bit more. It is a nice ride.

When we get to San Jose we have to find our hostel. I am so sick of lugging this suitcase around. I swear, if I ever travel like this again, I am going to invest in one of those giant backpacks. Suitcasing is a pain in the butt.

We find Tranquilo Backpackers, a very lively little hostel downtown, and drop off our stuff. Then the hunger hits us. We walk back to the pedestrian walkway and get some Cheesy Fiesta Fries from Taco Bell. Fiesta! The afternoon is still young so we walk down to the National Theatre. We have kept saying that we are going to come here but have never gotten around to it. So we pay our little entrance fee but opt to wander guide free. It is a lovely old building, and I kinda wish we had gotten the guide. As pretty as it is, I think we miss some of the story. But still. We have a good time sitting in the seats next to the President’s box and discussing theatre. Beth and I are going to see Lion King when we get home, and we are both pretty thrilled.

After stopping in the art museum in the Theatre (a dedication to Francisco Amighetti), we follow the crowd as the Theatre closes for the day. As this is our last day in San Jose, we have to visit Pops a final time. Beth gets a cone, and I get a sundae: helado de cafe con caramelo. Mmm...

Then it’s back to the hostel. I’d like to say that I spend the rest of the night mixing and mingling with our fellow hostelers, but if you remember how many blogs I put up Wednesday, you’ll know that’s not true. I spend all night typing up old entries and using the internet. But I don’t mind. Perhaps I should be living it up here, but what can I say? I’m invested. And you guys love me for it. :)

Nessy, go home!

Day 18, Tuesday, July 24^th

Another day, another dolla... spent. Well, it is Tuesday morning here in sunny ole Panama, but it could be the weekend for all we know. Beth and I are taking the “take it easy” policy of Panama very seriously. Today we have a tour at 9:30, so we do have to wake up a bit earlier than yesterday. Beth’s stomach is still bothering her, so I break my fast on some maní y jalea con galletas. Then it’s off to the boat docks!

Our little tour group consists of two older couples, a young couple from Spain, a young Mexican man, and a woman a few years older than us from Chicago. The older couples are quite the interesting pair: the men are from Georgia, while one of the women is from Panama, the other from Colombia. They seem to have discovered Panama on their own, but love it here. The older couple of the two actually owns the restaurant where Beth and I have eaten twice. How crazy is that?

Our first stop on this adventure is dolphin watching. Our boat idles out of the way while a boat that came before us motors around in circles. Every once in a while, the dolphins will just jump right behind the boats. When our boat goes around though, I don’t see any jumping for us. The experience is not as amazing as Heather had said, but it is nice. I like dolphins. Though a couple do jump pretty close to the boat, I am only able to get one very fuzzy shot. You can only see the top of their fins, giving the appearance of a Loch Ness kind of photo. Fun stuff.

Next we head to the dock where we will have lunch so we can place our orders. Here Beth and I get to talking with the girl from Chicago. She’s pretty interesting. She is a teacher and traveling on her own, which right there makes her amazing in my book. After this week Beth and I have admitted that while traveling is lovely, we may not have what it takes to go at it alone.

Then we are off again, this time to Zapatilla Cay where we are going to do some down and wet snorkeling. I have only been snorkeling once, and that was in a stingray enclosure in Jamaica, so this is a completely different experience. I am immediately overwhelmed by the extreme variety of fish. I see so many types – big fish, small fish, ugly fish, pretty fish. One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish! After observing for awhile, I find myself noting the different mechanisms the fish use to survive. There is camouflage: I see a small group of fish the same color of the coral that are in an almost vertical line. I can not tell they are fish until I am right over them. I see many fish that blend right into the coral – stripes and strange fin shapes allow them to float without being seen. And then there are those who throw caution to the wind. Sweeping down over the coral I see two very small but very sparkly blue fish. It reminds me of the book Rainbow Fish. There are schools and tiny little minnows, all the way up to a huge fish I see move far below the coral that must be the length of my arms. That causes me pause.

Despite all the wonderful fish, snorkeling is not so easy... or maybe I am just good at getting water in my nosepiece. I blow out and do all the stuff I am supposed to, but after the twelfth or so time that my nostrils fill with sea water, I decide to take a break. I go out a couple more times, but soon it is time to move on.

Now we go to the beach. This was Beth’s first time to snorkel, so we discuss. I think we both really enjoyed it. Yay cool fishies! The Chicago girl tells us that she saw a bottom feeder shark up in front of the boat. Beth and I did not see that.

After an hour long walk around the island (a decision I immediately regret because my shoulders are already so burned, and the sun is hot today), we spend the next hour in the water. We talk with Chicago girl and float in the crystal water, simply soaking up the beauty of the day. It is so lovely here.

We go back to the dock for lunch, where I have ordered red snapper. I receive two whole fish, cooked to delicacy, heads intact. It’s pretty fun. The fish is delicious, as are the rice and plantains. Oh how I love plantains. After lunch, the driver offers to take some people out snorkeling again, but I know I’ve had my fill of the sun. So I sit it out and talk with Beth and take pictures for the next hour until he returns to pick us up. Then we are on our way back to shore.

It is about 4:30ish now, and we’re pretty hungry. Okay, I’m hungry; Beth’s stomach is still messing with her. So we go to the grocery store and pick up some bread and Té Frío before I leave Beth to go look for souvenirs. I find myself really missing Hannah’s positive attitude and inquisitive nature as I walk through the stalls searching for gold. She would have been a welcome addition on the boat, where she might have shared my excitement about what we saw. It’s hard to get a lot of excitement from Beth. And she would listen to me and laugh at my stupid jokes. Maybe Beth and I have just been friends a long time, but it still starts to hurt when she never laughs at my puns. No, I’m just stupid.

For example, when I am looking for souvenirs, I run into this older man who introduces himself as Sergio. We talk for a bit, and he seems elated that I know Spanish. This is not surprising; most of the vendors will speak English to you, but they are glad if we can speak Spanish. So I glance at his merchandise as we talk, but I don’t see anything I want. I am looking for a polite way to leave, but that is always impossible. Finally, as it seems I will escape, he captures my hand and tries to kiss me goodbye. I turn my head and can’t quite stop him from kissing my ear. I can barely restrain myself from running back to the Hospidaje. Way to go me; the most action I get is from an old man. When I tell Beth, she just smiles and says “Yeah, that’s creepy.” I’m pretty sure Hannah would have laughed me back to the States.

Back at the room I shower and settle in for some dinner of PB&J and Ritz cheese crackers. I read and eat until it is imperative that I repack my bag. We have to get up early tomorrow to catch the boat back to Changinola. Another border crossing. Yay. Okay then, I’ll pull my tired self to bed. Night!

Well, I *am* a tourist...

Day 17, Monday, July 23^rd

Goooooooood morning Panama! Okay, maybe I’m not Robin Williams, and I’m pretty sure no army would want to listen to my radio show, but who likes fighting anyhow?

It is a lovely Monday morning, made doubly so by the fact that I get to sleep late (9ish?). I lay in bed and read A Clash of Kings until my stomach not so subtly informs me that it requires food... now. So Beth and I get up and dressed and such and walk across the park to the restaurant where we ate lunch yesterday, as we have seen they have breakfast. I’m feeling some pancakes this morning, so we place our orders (Beth gets an omelet) and retire to a table to wait.

The food is good, and with our tummies full, we decide to figure out our plans from here on out. We want to do a boat tour tomorrow, but we’re not sure which company to choose. The first we come across has a couple of interesting prospects, so we get prices and say we’ll be back later. Our second stop tells us more about the places, but I like the feel of the first company better. Now that we have two sets of itineraries and no idea which to choose, we peruse our options. With company number one we can do a tour with dolphin sighting, snorkeling, and beach... or one with the Marine park, snorkeling, and beach. Company number two offers two similar tours. Yet when we talk to Company number one, they tell us that due to the water conditions at Punto Viejo, they will do the dolphins, snorkeling, and Marine Park in one tour. Perfect.

That settled, we ask our tour guide if there are any good beaches around. She tells us we can catch the bus by the park for two dollars to Bocas del Drago, a forty five minute ride up Isla Colón. That sounds wonderful. We visit the room briefly to change and pack a bag, and I make the conscious decision to not wear sunscreen. I know, bad Sarah. But I absorb sunscreen. It hardly takes any to keep me from getting any sun at all. So bring on the pain, if it brings on the tan.

According to the tour guide, the bus to Drago leaves every hour on the hour, so we cross the park a few minutes before 11 to wait. Just as we arrive, a bus to Drago is pulling up, but the driver is being a bit discriminatory in his pickings. He lets three people on the bus and waves the rest of us back. Apparently we have to wait for the next one (in other words, the tourist one). Then he takes his mostly empty bus and drives off.

So we wait... and wait... and wait. There is an older man that they did not let on the bus who is also waiting, so I don’t mind if he doesn’t. I have my book, which I pull out to pass the time. But there is a little girl next to us, who, after being denied a quarter by Beth and I, decides to spend her time sneaking up behind us and trying to look at my book. I show her – “¿Puedes leer? ¿Entiendes inglés?” – but she just shrugs her shoulders and stands way too close for comfort.

The next bus that comes is obviously meant for tourists, and Beth, I, our elderly friend, and a gaggle of middle aged men board for the beach. The men our nice; how cool to still be backpacking through countries with your best friends in your forties. The bus ride isn’t too long, and soon we’re pulling up too the itty bitty station of Bocas del Drago. I say station because, although it’s all houses, it feels suspiciously like we’re hanging out on private property. We walk through a yard and suddenly – BAM. There it is, the most beautiful sea I have ever seen. The water is crystal – an aqua green that is as tranquil as the area. The sun seems to beg for pictures, and I am quick to oblige. I think these are my favorite photos. Beth and start down the five foot wide stretch of beach, which at times simply disappears into the water. We wade around trees and keep walking until we come into a little bay area where a local family is swimming. Just past them we decide to lay out our towels and make camp. The water is too inviting to simply admire however, and it takes me only minutes to wade out into its crystal depths. What we can’t see from shore however is that there is a reef about 100 yards in, so the water never gets deeper than our shoulders.

The next few hours are spent in lazy appreciation of this perfect day. I lie out and read, swim when I get hot, and rejoice as I feel the sun cooking my skin. It is so very lovely. I wish I could say more, but if you look at my pictures and close your eyes, perhaps you can just imagine. :)

There is a four o’clock bus back to town that we want to take, so we gather up our stuff close to that time and walk back to the stop. Our middle aged co travelers tell us that we should have kept walking around the beach – they saw starfish the size of dinner plates. And I later learn that this is the key draw to Drago... whoops. I actually really wish we had seen them, but I have enjoyed this day nonetheless.

Back at the hospidaje, we shower and get ready to go to dinner. I can tell I got burnt, but it doesn’t hurt too much... yet. After my shower I put my pictures from Manuel Antonio on my comp and organize them. Then it’s off to dinner! Yesterday I saw this place called Le Pirate that I wanted to go to, so now we walk over. The goal was to watch the sunset on the patio, but as it is 7:30 by the time we get there, the sun has long since set. Even so, we enjoy a nice dinner of shrimp and lobster (though the lobster messes with Beth’s stomach) and piña coladas (which wasn’t very good actually). So, though it isn’t the best food we’ve had, we still enjoy ourselves thoroughly.

Suddenly we remember that we have to go back to the tour place to make the reservation for tomorrow (there weren’t enough people signed up earlier to choose it this morning). That takes just a few minutes, and we’re not ready to turn in. We’ve been good girls this entire trip. I haven’t gone out in San Jose, and I’ve rarely spent money on anything besides tours and food. So we think: let’s go out. Well, we’re not nightclub girls, and it’s still early, so we just walk to a little bar above a restaurant called Lemongrass. The bartender is one of those young guys who wants to show off, so you know, we have a good time. And then Beth and I just sit in their lounge and sip our drinks. I get another fruity concoction to start (it is mixed with Hawaiian fruit – que interesante) and then end with whiskey and sprite – I’m falling into a routine... is that bad? Except that this guy is like the bartender in San Jose... or I just don’t enunciate. Because he gives me whiskey on the rocks – straight up. I wait till it’s pretty diluted before I start sipping. I don’t think I’ll do that again.

After drinks (Beth has to try another long island iced tea – she says she’d like to try them everywhere), we decide to turn in. We’re not night owls, us girls. Instead we watch an episode of Ugly Betty on Beth’s computer and call it a night. After all, tomorrow is another day, and we’re in Panama. :)

*edit*: Yesterday, I wrote that the little cemetery we saw in town lost many of its graves due to erosion (see paragraph seven of Sunday’s entry). Beth found out today that actually the destruction was due to an earthquake that wrecked the area not too long ago. It just seems that no one bothered to clean up the holy mess. Kinda like the ruins in Cartago... only a shade more creepy.

Bienvenida a Panama

Sunday, July 22^nd

Oh boy. Today it begins – the true adventure.

I get up at four to make sure I have everything together, and by 4:30, I am waiting for mis padres. They are so kind and offer to drive me to Jackie’s house so I don’t have to drag my bags all the way there.

And it is from here until I meet Beth that I succeed in making everyone I meet angry with me. I can’t find Jackie’s house, so we have to drive back to my house to get her number (# 1 – mis padres). Then I call her only to wake her mother up (#2) and hear Jackie telling me that she has been waiting behind the gate (#3). The exchange finally takes place, and I send Jackie with some money to give Sara should my bag be overweight. I am anxious, but I hope everything works out. By the time I meet Beth at the Mas X Menos, I am a nervous wreck. But as I say goodbye to mis padres, I relax. They are very sweet people, and I’m going to miss them.

We find a taxi without much trouble, and within the hour we are safely sitting in the bus, awaiting our trip to Sixaola. High five. The bus ride passes well enough: I decide to destroy my “bufanda” when I realize that somehow in the process I have added another fifteen loops. So instead I start another headband. I take a break halfway through and try to type, but there is no room. But I do finish my headband... sorta. I kinda forgot to ask Hannah how to end a piece. So... yeah. I’m gonna have to look that up.

And then we get to Sixaola. Oh, the stress. We are accosted by children wanting to “help” with our bags when we get off the bus; passport stamp out of CR; passport stamp into Panama; “¡No necesito ayudar!”; pay the visa; drag way too heavy bag across border; try to find a decent taxi. I’m overwhelmed. If not for the help of two friendly locals and a wise young Argentinean (though not narcoleptic), I’m not sure Beth and I would have made it through. But we do, and soon enough we are boarding a ferry from Changinola to Bocas del Toro (a nice trip I’m sure, except I drifted in and out through it). The little village is nice and unassuming, if not completely touristy. I’m not sure if we see more natives or gringos, but I’m not worried. This place seems nice. Or it would... if I wasn’t lugging around a big piece of luggage (even my small bag is vexing me now).

Beth and I don’t have reservations, so we just walk to a hostel she read about in her book – but they are full. They recommend their other hostel, but Beth doesn’t want to go there. However, after dragging our bags halfway across town again, my complaining breaks her down and we just decide on the nearest place we can find. So, it is the Hospidaje Maritza for us. The little motel is nice, but the room won’t be ready until 4:30. So we leave our luggage with her (it is safe, I promise) and head out to explore the town.

We get some lunch at a little cafe across from the town park and walk down to the pier to watch the ocean. It truly is beautiful here, and now that we are unencumbered by our bags, we can enjoy it. We talk for a bit and enjoy the atmosphere, making our plans for the morrow. We’d like to go to the beach but have no idea where one may be. So for now we go to the grocery store to pick up the staples (PB&J and cheese crackers and agua) before returning to the Hospidaje. Beth decides to catch a few winks, so I take my book up to the deck to read. When I’m pretty sure the sun is getting ready to go down, I wake Beth, and we decide to try and find a beach. We walk and walk, and though we never come across a beach, we do see a cemetery that abuts the water. The ocean has done its damage here: many of the above ground graves have been eroded and eaten away, and a pile of old crosses adorns newly formed trash heaps. It is at once both dismaying and beautiful. Beth and I take it in and watch the sun begin its descent, but this part of town isn’t the best, so we start back before the dark becomes too strong.

But we do come up with a plan for our stay: we will find a beach tomorrow, no matter what. And then Tuesday we’ll do a boat tour. That sounds good.

So tonight? Well, how about some drinks? We head to a place called Sand and Surf (original no?) and I order La Iguana (an interesting fruity concoction to my pleasure) while Beth gets a Long Island Iced Tea. And we didn’t eat dinner. But still... another drink later, we decide to retire to the room for the night – we’re really not fiesteras.

The last thing on our little agenda is to shower. Afterwards, I wash some clothes and lay them out to dry. Refreshed and relaxed, I have to say, I am happy to be in Panama. Asi, ¡hasta pronto!