Day 5

I seriously can’t stop talking to people. Being alone has forced me to meet an overwhelming amount of freaking people. From freaking everywhere. I had talked to my bunkmate and stared at Thai and Vietnamese street food on instagram (yes while in Panama, call me greedy) till late last night and it was pouring all morning. I got up super late. I decided I could probably get my attendance clicker question for my lecture back home and help out any friends who were on campus but skipping anyway. Which I did.

As soon as it was dry-ish, I went jogging and didn’t stop until I hit 10 miles. With all my exploring, stopping for speeding cars, and photo taking, my average pace was a sad 12 minutes per mile. I had enough fun to make up for most of the earlier daylight hours being shot. I always feel guilty for holing up in a hostel. I finished circling Bocas town and the colorful shacks that come with it. There is so much food of all sorts, being sold from waterfront cafes, windows, carts, trucks, whatever. Every other building seems to be a minisuper.

 

I continued along the coast on the main highway accompanied only by stormy skies from above and breaking waves at my side. I passed local residencies, as well as larger estates or resorts built by foreigners. I passed Playa Punch and eventually got to a dirt road, which I presumed to be Playa Bluff. Everyone says Bluff is the best one for bumming and surfing.

 

 

On the way home I bought an pricey bar of Dorothy’s Own rosewater flavored chocolate for my mom. Super Gourmet carries several lines of local organic chocolate but my decision was made easy because Dorothy was in my yoga class.

 

 

I made a squash, carrot, and bell pepper stir fry with shredded coconut toasted and sprinkled on top. Some Australians were cooking as well and told me I made them really want to run. I ate by the large group of young German girls, and felt bad because the other German guests made fun of them for traveling in a study/program abroad manner.

 

 

I tend to trust man buns. Marcos, the adored German man-bunned man of Heike (he wakes up past noon and the hostel staff shoves hot lunch in front of him), appeared and suggested I shower before I joined them in Isla Bastimentos for Dia de Bastimentos (November 23). I guess that’s another reason to feel bad for the girls—I had sat with them reeking.

I totally forgot to tip William for surfing so after my shower I bought him the $5 Movistar credit he asked for and dropped it off at the surf shop. I’m not sure how important tipping in Panama is. William says some tip him, others don’t. The phone credit can be found at minisupers, and at this one I learned the cashier boy left China at age 13 and hasn’t been back since. Now 25, not only is seeing his parents going to be crazy, but China has advanced an unimaginable amount in the last dozen years.

Marcos said I smelled delicious now. I hung with him for the rest of the night. The hostel desk boy taught us an amusing response of Bocas when people ask what’s up: “todo chillin.”

I got along so well with Marcos because he makes a point to learn from locals and thinks half the backpackers out there are rubbish. We would just talk about random casual things and suddenly he’d drop in an insane travel story. Perhaps they deserve their own post. He’d been here for two weeks, “looking for work” but had also been like half hung-over and a quarter stoned. He explained how Isla Bastimentos was much more Caribbean than Colon.

Once we got there (don’t pay more than 3USD) I saw what he meant. Despite being one of Panama’s largest islands, the main road in town is just a side walk, no cars. There was delicious smelling grilled meats and spiced coconut rice true to the Caribbean. In the park, we watched this one dog literally throw herself at a larger boxer dog who was so uninterested. Like running after him getting in front and thrusting her behind in front of his face. We’ve never seen anything like it. I was uncomfortable.

The whole town frequents two bars. Although it was the day of the island, an annual holiday, the night life was normal and even more mellow than the previous two nights. They say last week for Bocas Day, the parades didn’t stop until 3am and started up again at 5am. Here, the children played tambourines during the day which is more innocent but still fun. Marcos pointed out how stiff all the Europeans and Americans are when they go out. The locals truly dance, even as little kids. He knew a lot of the locals and travelers and was toying the idea of joining11 other volunteers on their tourism project. Or helping with a tattoo start-up.

I could talk to and travel with Marcos indefinitely, something very hard to come by, but I hugged him goodbye. A large group, including my roommates, was heading back to Bocas town and so the boat ride was 2USD this time.

On a final interesting note, Marcos didn’t like Germans very much. And another German didn’t want to “look more German” than Marcos when we were comparing. Also, back to me encouraging the world to workaway, both Marcos and a girl from Quebec have accounts, like me, and she used it to find her job in Bastimentos in return for housing, one meal a day, and half off all other meals.