That Face of a Half Sucked Mango, Panama City

Mother nature has a habit of coming to our aid in the most unlikely of circumstances, often in our greatest time of need. Taps run dry and the heavens open above us, drenching a parched land with life giving water. Find yourself starved, deprived of essential yet regularly neglected vitamins, and plump, juicy mangoes shall fall from the sky. So then why, must my basic animal instincts always adopt a way of failing me?? Where hides such justice? All night long I'd been kept awake in my tent by the heavy crashing sound of fruit, plummeting onto the corrugated iron roof of the adjoining kitchen. The next day I find myself resting in the shade, reading a new book in the comfort & relative safety of a hammock. Never let your guard down I tell you. I hear a rustle, far up in the highest reaches of my shelter tree, and obviously without thinking lift my face upwards to enquire. I don't even have time to grimace at the gullibleness of this split-second mistake...SMACK!! I'm being beaten up by a tree. Could I be anymore pathetic? Actually, I believe I've been down this road once before - I'm just grateful it wasn't another orange.

Bocas had been a wild ride. That was indisputable. The days had soon whizzed by in one chaotic haze of beach, babes & booze. I was ready for another break; to get my head back in check and hopefully regain that drive to restore at least some of my bodies former integrity. The crisp smell of the air excited me as the bus chugged its way uphill, steadily approaching the mountain hideaway of Boquete, tucked picturesquely between the steep slopes of the luscious Caldera River Valley. This was just what I had been after - a few days dedicated solely to hiking about the surrounding countryside. Save a little cash, save a whole lot'a self. Darting off the bus & into the rain, I soon found a quaint little hostel called Nomba's, ran by a hilariously energetic El Salvadorian woman. It had the feel of what hostels once might have been, before the dawn of the Lonely Planet led dictatorship, or the emergence of those purpose built flashpackers. This place was cosy & basic, yet full of charm & authentic character.

Looking down over Boquete

An early rise had me on the move as the sun began to poke its beaming cap over the distant hills. I knew I was in for a long day on the trail. The plan was to hike the nearby Volcan Baru, the highest point in the whole of Panama, where reputedly on a clear day one can attain a view of both the Caribbean & the Pacific in a single panorama. Locals kindly welcomed in my morning, as they passed me by on their way to work, tending the farmlands which hugged the roadside leading into the park. Colourful traditional dresses hung drying from fences as woman prepared meals and waited for their smartly dressed children to be collected by the bus for school.

By the time I was halfway up the volcano I was already feeling the burn, and I began cursing myself for allowing my once unstoppable stamina to fall into this state of disrepute. To be fair however, it was quite the climb. By the time the atmospheric cloud forest had given way to a metallic tangle of TV antennas marking the 3475m high summit, I'd already walked around 21kms and gained over 2000 meters in elevation, all of which I was yet to attack in reverse. I slumped down against the cross trig around midday and smashed into some jam rolls & a large can of chili tuna. I wasn't looking forward to the return journey. More often I prefer the climb. Descents kill your weary bones & joints at the end of a long day. On reaching the park entrance I felt totally wrecked, and my boots had surely shrunk and decided to cut my poor toes to shreds. I was longing for a lift back to town, but the odds turned against me as thunderous black clouds rolled in and dumped all of Gods bursting bladder in one mighty calculated downpour. Within minutes I was soaked, and figured it was best just to keep on trudging back to Boquete. Finally, about half way there, I managed to snare a ride in the back of a pick-up. As grateful as I was, you know how you get twice as wet when you start running in the rain compared with walking?? Well, picture zipping down a hill at 70kph with a full-wall force of these mammoth bullets of liquid-pain puncturing you repetitively like angry hands at a typewriter. My boots became gutters that could have filled a sink. It seemed more likely that I'd been out whitewater rafting on a fishing buoy. By the time I made it back to the hostel I'd come close to hiking a marathon; that day I covered about 39kms, with over 4000 meters worth of ascent & descent in a little under 8 hours. The mountain goat was back! I couldn't have felt better.

From the summit of Volcan Baru

That night I was out like my father is after "half past nine, too much wine." I only wish it could have kept coming that way. Another scheduled treat of easy hiking to various lookouts & waterfalls, in the company of a friendly Polish girl (who I am yet to know the name of, even after a whole week travelling together...) became tarnished by the presence of a man waiting for an introduction on arrival as we returned to our hostel later that afternoon. You know when you meet someone, and for some reason you can just picture them stabbing you to death as you sleep?? You don't know what it is exactly - an itch you can't reach to scratch. Or more like that time I spontaneously sent myself to the doctor, only to find out I'd only ever been born with one kidney. I knew something wasn't right, something was missing. His name was Chris (look him up in the US child abductor register & I'm sure you'll find his picture! He's here in Panama!!). He told me that he'd just hung around "being" in Volcan for the past four months. No one just hangs around in Volcan! "So Chris, what brings you over this way to Boquete? How long you plan to stay here for?" It takes him a moment to flutter his eyes and collect his thoughts..."hmmm, well, there wasn't much happening in Volcan...so I thought I'd come stay here in Boquete for a while...maybe four or five months...might read some more books & watch some movies. Have you seen the collection of great movies they have here?? Boy...I think I've nearly watched them all!" Freak!! You meet some creepy people out on the road. That night I slept with my knife ready at arms under my pillow. I've never been sure if it truly came down to it, whether I would have the stomach to actually stab someone in my own self defence. With this guy...I couldn't register a strand of restraint in my conscience. For your own sake buddy, do not wake me up for a glass of milk in the early hours.

Lost Waterfall

I continued my little escapee jaunt, with a detour out to the quiet surf town of Santa Catalina on the Pacific Coast. That was a long day of buses, four in total, and I became ecstatic when I found myself a cheap place to pitch my tent for the night. Lucky for me, I'd only just got it all set up with my things  tucked inside before the heavens grumbled and the downpour began. What a show mother nature put on for us all this night! Never, ever, ever, ever had I seen a storm as awesome as that! It was like something out of a horror movie. The sky became luminescent, and the crack of thunder surged through us with an anticipated unexpectedness. The water was out, so we all showered under the overfill gutter-pipe outlet protruding from the side of the ramshackled building; and once the power shut off, childishly sat around the table reading books by candlelight. The reflex surprise of the roaring thunder was only outdone by the sudden crash of mangoes, falling onto the roof above us. After a big bowl of cornflakes & way too many Oreos, I retired back to my tent. Whether it's the malaria tablets playing tricks on me, or simply the unsettled playground of my own mental mind, but I'd been having some seriously wack dreams of late. That night was one of the worst. I dreamt up a smorgasbord of frightening scenarios, ranging anywhere from decapitation at the hands of a giant green lizard, to becoming locked in the depths of a dungeon by my high school teacher Mrs. White for not surpassing her growing expectations in my latest English assignment. I also thought I dreamt up an earthquake, shaking me from my sleep not once, but twice throughout the course of the night...only that turned out to be real! From where does one determine fact from fiction?? I imagine there is often only a fine line.

After my long night dancing with the devil, I decided it was time to hit up some waves. To prove the Australianess in me once and for all. That day flew by!! I forgot how much I enjoyed surfing in bathtub temperatured water. I was out there for close to six hours before the waves slowly disintegrated into nothing more than a frothing washing machine. I strolled on back to camp with my head held high, cooked up some scrambled eggs...then, this was when the mango smacked me square in the face & ruined my good fortunes. I became the Pied-Piper. Puppies by the half dozen started following be around, infecting me with their discarded flees. One got its fat head stuck in the panels of the kitchen window trying to get inside as I enjoyed my dinner. Then the rains returned, and never went away. I slept all day, but more nightmares of the Taliban stoning me to death like a Hazara, kept me from fully nodding off soundly. This was a sign. It was time to leave.

Yesterday I crossed over the canal, a breathtaking sight to behold, and arrived at the crossroads of Panama City. Looking out at the high rises across the water, there is a definite air of contrast here, a mix of the new world mingling with the old. Soon, my world will also be making a sharp U-Turn, signalling the beginning of a fresh new adventure. The first chapter of my long awaited journey is coming to an abrupt end; closing shut great curtains in front of an enlightened face. Gallivanting across Central America is done for. It's time I found a sail boat to Columbia...

Panama City from nearby Casco Viejo

Hope all is well back home...
Miss & love all you few each & everyday!
No fear...all shall become clear. 
Talk again soon after the San Blas!!
Love Schmorgasbord xxx