Here it is Sunday night, January 2nd, and I'm finally going to try to finish the post I started five days ago. It's been a busy week and two days and while writing is something I want to do, socializing, going on little trips, eating and sleeping have been much higher on my priority list.
So...where was I....
Monday morning, 6am sharp, Mario showed up at Casa Las Americas and whisked me away to the huge bus station next to the Albrook Mall. Panama City is lively even at that early hour, and with instructions to just go into the station, turn left and buy my ticket, I said adios y gracias and started the next chapter of my little adventure.
This terminal reminded me of the train stations in India, if only because they are teeming with people at all hours. There were more buses in the parking lots than I ever had seen in one place before, row after row after row. The city buses look like our school buses, painted Grateful Dead psychedelic, kind of reminding me of Ken Kesey's bus, "Further." I entered into the terminal, turned left as instructed and paused to figure it out. Mario had said 'turn left, buy your ticket,' but it was up to me to find where we buy our tickets. Then I saw it, after turning left, up ahead on the right, windows with names of various destinations in Panama. I stood in line for my ticket to David (pronounced, as in Hebrew, dah-VEED), and for $13 I had in my hand a ticket for a long day's drive west of Panama City.
As it turned out, I was the only non-Panamanian on this completely full bus. I had a seat in one of the back rows, near the bathroom, therefore during the majority of the trip, the wafting fragrance reminded me of some of the finest outhouses I’ve had the privilege to visit. While these ‘express’ buses look from the outside like our Greyhound buses, inside it’s more like an airplane….everyone squished in with not a lot of room to move. When we were boarding, a mom, dad, and two kids found that their seats were next to me. The middle school age daughter did not want to sit by me, as I was definitely ‘different,’ but they told her she had to. I smiled and once we got going, I offered her chewing gum (bubble, which she enjoyed). After that, she started to feel a bit more at ease. We chatted a bit in Spanish, not saying much in actuality. I could feel many eyes on me whenever we did talk. A little while later, I offered some of my trail mix with Peanut M & Ms to her and that clinched it…we were friends now. Her mom, dad and little brother were sitting across the aisle, and they were watching everything, so I asked her to hand them the bag. It was fun to share this, especially the M & Ms, and I felt bad that I didn’t have enough to go around the whole bus. Hence, my Facebook posting that day: One truth I've learned through all my travels is that the language of chocolate is spoken everywhere, including on a Panamanian bus.
The view on the main highway, the Inter-American Highway, between Horconcito and David . . . mountains in the distance
Suddenly, I looked out the window in time to see the sign for “Horconcito” and realized I was supposed to get off there — a bit late — and that meant I had to stay on for almost an extra hour. Finally, we reached David, seven plus hours after we left Panama City. I smiled and said “Ciao” (since I’d heard many people use ‘ciao’ instead of ‘adios’), and everyone in the back of the bus waved to me, smiled, and said goodbye with calls of ciao and adios. I felt like a celebrity. I did feel bad, though, because when the driver tried to find my pack in the cargo section of the bus, he had to unload at least half the luggage since mine was one of the first bags to be loaded. That was a ten-minute delay in the heat, since the air conditioner was turned off during the stop.
As my new friends waved to me through the windows, I started walking back toward the main road while thinking about how I was going to get back to Horconcito. David is a small city with a not-very-large population of foreign residents, so I figured I could get help if I needed it. But the universe continued to bless me — there in front of me was a yellow pick-up truck with a taxi sign on it (along with a few other taxis); for some reason I was drawn to the pick-up truck and its driver, and in Spanish I asked if he could drive me to Horconcito and what it would cost. He laughed at me, telling me (still in Spanish) that I should have gotten off the bus 40 km back. Si, Si, yo se, pero yo veo el signo muy tarde. Por favor, usted piensa que me llevar a Horconcito? o Boca Chica? (Yes, Yes, I know, but I see the sign too late. Please, do you think that you take me to Horconcito? Or Boca Chica?) My present tense Spanish was marked by using the wrong words because I was not sure — such as ‘do you think,’ when, according to my (new) friend, I should have used the word “creer” which I thought meant ‘to believe.’ Language is complicated! But, Gomez understood me and gave me a good deal on the drive. He was such a gentleman, and as we drove, he pointed out the sights (it’s a beautiful country) and even stopped to buy me a bottle of water and would not allow me to pay for it. I liked him so much that I asked him to come back three days later and pick me up to bring me to Boquete (and he did).
Views between Horconcito and Boca Chica (heading south to the coast for ten miles)
Gomez drove me through the little tiny village of Horconcito and ten more miles to Boca Chica on the coast. The scenery was absolutely beautiful, and the houses were so pretty, painted different colors (blue, green, yellow, pink, and white), and all had so many colorful flowers growing everywhere. What a charming little village.
In the distance, there's the ocean waiting for me...on the other side of these hills Boca Chica and the water taxi to the islands
And there, before me, was the island paradise I'd been longing to reach: Boca Brava. What a spectacular way to end my day.
It was such a good feeling to end my day with this view from the water taxi!
To be continued...
So...where was I....
Monday morning, 6am sharp, Mario showed up at Casa Las Americas and whisked me away to the huge bus station next to the Albrook Mall. Panama City is lively even at that early hour, and with instructions to just go into the station, turn left and buy my ticket, I said adios y gracias and started the next chapter of my little adventure.
This terminal reminded me of the train stations in India, if only because they are teeming with people at all hours. There were more buses in the parking lots than I ever had seen in one place before, row after row after row. The city buses look like our school buses, painted Grateful Dead psychedelic, kind of reminding me of Ken Kesey's bus, "Further." I entered into the terminal, turned left as instructed and paused to figure it out. Mario had said 'turn left, buy your ticket,' but it was up to me to find where we buy our tickets. Then I saw it, after turning left, up ahead on the right, windows with names of various destinations in Panama. I stood in line for my ticket to David (pronounced, as in Hebrew, dah-VEED), and for $13 I had in my hand a ticket for a long day's drive west of Panama City.
As it turned out, I was the only non-Panamanian on this completely full bus. I had a seat in one of the back rows, near the bathroom, therefore during the majority of the trip, the wafting fragrance reminded me of some of the finest outhouses I’ve had the privilege to visit. While these ‘express’ buses look from the outside like our Greyhound buses, inside it’s more like an airplane….everyone squished in with not a lot of room to move. When we were boarding, a mom, dad, and two kids found that their seats were next to me. The middle school age daughter did not want to sit by me, as I was definitely ‘different,’ but they told her she had to. I smiled and once we got going, I offered her chewing gum (bubble, which she enjoyed). After that, she started to feel a bit more at ease. We chatted a bit in Spanish, not saying much in actuality. I could feel many eyes on me whenever we did talk. A little while later, I offered some of my trail mix with Peanut M & Ms to her and that clinched it…we were friends now. Her mom, dad and little brother were sitting across the aisle, and they were watching everything, so I asked her to hand them the bag. It was fun to share this, especially the M & Ms, and I felt bad that I didn’t have enough to go around the whole bus. Hence, my Facebook posting that day: One truth I've learned through all my travels is that the language of chocolate is spoken everywhere, including on a Panamanian bus.
The view on the main highway, the Inter-American Highway, between Horconcito and David . . . mountains in the distance
Suddenly, I looked out the window in time to see the sign for “Horconcito” and realized I was supposed to get off there — a bit late — and that meant I had to stay on for almost an extra hour. Finally, we reached David, seven plus hours after we left Panama City. I smiled and said “Ciao” (since I’d heard many people use ‘ciao’ instead of ‘adios’), and everyone in the back of the bus waved to me, smiled, and said goodbye with calls of ciao and adios. I felt like a celebrity. I did feel bad, though, because when the driver tried to find my pack in the cargo section of the bus, he had to unload at least half the luggage since mine was one of the first bags to be loaded. That was a ten-minute delay in the heat, since the air conditioner was turned off during the stop.
As my new friends waved to me through the windows, I started walking back toward the main road while thinking about how I was going to get back to Horconcito. David is a small city with a not-very-large population of foreign residents, so I figured I could get help if I needed it. But the universe continued to bless me — there in front of me was a yellow pick-up truck with a taxi sign on it (along with a few other taxis); for some reason I was drawn to the pick-up truck and its driver, and in Spanish I asked if he could drive me to Horconcito and what it would cost. He laughed at me, telling me (still in Spanish) that I should have gotten off the bus 40 km back. Si, Si, yo se, pero yo veo el signo muy tarde. Por favor, usted piensa que me llevar a Horconcito? o Boca Chica? (Yes, Yes, I know, but I see the sign too late. Please, do you think that you take me to Horconcito? Or Boca Chica?) My present tense Spanish was marked by using the wrong words because I was not sure — such as ‘do you think,’ when, according to my (new) friend, I should have used the word “creer” which I thought meant ‘to believe.’ Language is complicated! But, Gomez understood me and gave me a good deal on the drive. He was such a gentleman, and as we drove, he pointed out the sights (it’s a beautiful country) and even stopped to buy me a bottle of water and would not allow me to pay for it. I liked him so much that I asked him to come back three days later and pick me up to bring me to Boquete (and he did).
Views between Horconcito and Boca Chica (heading south to the coast for ten miles)
Gomez drove me through the little tiny village of Horconcito and ten more miles to Boca Chica on the coast. The scenery was absolutely beautiful, and the houses were so pretty, painted different colors (blue, green, yellow, pink, and white), and all had so many colorful flowers growing everywhere. What a charming little village.
In the distance, there's the ocean waiting for me...on the other side of these hills Boca Chica and the water taxi to the islands
And there, before me, was the island paradise I'd been longing to reach: Boca Brava. What a spectacular way to end my day.
It was such a good feeling to end my day with this view from the water taxi!
To be continued...
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