I had been eyeing this dreamy town growing in tourism long before I left American soil. So happy to have made it, I took a slow day to people watch, and enjoyed the bonus sunshine while spending a surprisingly low amount of money.

 

Day 9

I woke and set up to meet up, and actually found how lovely Nomba was. For 10.50USD dorm beds, we had hot showers, kitchen, and free breakfast. But instead of a giant mass of pancake batter sitting out for three hours, it was homemade bread, peanut butter, jelly, pineapple, coffee, and bananas. The bilingual babies running around, Ocean and Aspen, invited us to eat listing the menu over and over. They ate peanut butter with me (I had half a plate). I recommend this place for families and couples looking for personalized outdoor adventure tours around Boquete.

 

 

I quickly packed, let down Adam one last time, and hugged an excited-for-me Marcella goodbye. Katie was showering.

 

 

40 cents takes you to town via the frequent taxis. I found my favorite German waiting outside hostel Mamallena in the central square. You could tell this town was more wealthy because it had welcoming fountains. Marcos took my bag to his room, and we went for a walk.

Most would find the bridge two blocks away to be plain, but it was stunning to me. Wind and sun surrounded us. Marcos bought some weird rice/milk pudding that he appropriately labelled “dog shit” and was told to eat it with milk or cheese. It was fine plain.

 

 

On the 15-minute walk to Mi Jardín Es Su Jardín, we talked about his life, his trip. It’s the craziest of its kind-that’s all I can afford to say.

 

 

The sunny drizzle was soon replaced with pure sun and it was actually hot. Random cow and flamingo statues were scattered among flower beds. For some reason the lookout tower was closed off, but we had a nice time on a mini suspension bridge overlooking a very cute water system. Marcos made fun of the koi for being pointless. The rich owners of the estate keep the land open to the public for free wandering. The cafe has wifi. I guess it’s kinda my fault that I ran into my entire group here save for Adam, who was hiking alone. At least Katie and Marcella got to meet Marcos. I could see the curiosity and amusement in their eyes.

 

 

We sat for hours continuing our talks and attempting inversion yoga. We noted the significant amount of Americans and older tourists in Boquete. As he was telling me he never uses sunscreen and only tans, he burned.

 

 

He was starving and could only think of his leftover pasta at Mamallena. I boiled veggies in the kitchen and we lounged on the sofas out back. I decided to stay in town for the night to enjoy the parades tonight and found a room at Pension Marilos. At prices competitive with hostels (15/20 USD for a single/three-person private), this no-frills private guesthouse is such a steal. My private bath wins the hottest shower I’ve ever had in Central America. Kitchen, large living room with TV, a dining area the size of a cafe, and a great location only two blocks from central square.

Dinner was genius: salted lemon plantain chips used to scoop out the perfectly ripe flesh of avocado halves. This gastronomic union needs to make it onto everyone’s bucket list.

November 28th is Independence from Spain Day. Obviously the celebration starts at least the night before. I watched the cacoph—I mean parade of high school bands make crazy noises. The drummer boys had beanies or soccer hair and would throw and flip their instruments to the beat. So many street food vendors had set up under little tents. For 2USD I got myself a hot kabab which made me really happy. Pretty dancers were posing in traditional dresses. Wealthy Panamanians from around the country were rolling in with nice cars, some even with fancy lights or oversized wheels. This was just the beginning. And this was so dwarfed by Marcos’s photos of Bocas Day two weeks ago full of fire, fireworks, and insomnia.

 

 

The wind ushered us back into Mamallena. The clean hostel offers endless bulletins and stacks of tour and travel info, in addition to free breakfast. This is the only backpackers in town, and everyone was socializing now. We chatted with the cutest, most exotic girl from London and a Swiss girl who’s been straight booking adventure tours and recovering from them. Marcos offered to do Sendero LQ with her, but she was too scared to not have a guide. She’s zip lined, snorkelled in Coiba, and spent today horseback riding.

Pooped out, we checked out the crazy back street of booze, kebabs, and ceviche trucks (think county fair), saw the blinding laser lights where the party hadn’t even started yet, then called it a day.

 

 

 

Day 10

 

I could hear music in the background until 5am. Speakers were blaring Watch Me and Bruno Mars. At exactly 10am, a new school band and ROTC equivalent had taken over town and begun their skit. Glad the festivities didn’t strand me in these mountains when I had a flight to catch, I bade my friend farewell at his hostel and found the bus stop directly across from the fancy-looking biblioteca, 1.75USD and two hours away from David.

 

 

15USD on a crazy comfortable double decker took me back to Panama City. I had two front row seats to myself, and took the blazing sunshine as an opportunity to dry out my sneakers. By 7pm I was at Albrook station again. Instead of taking a 35USD taxi I opted for the 90-minute ride on a metro bus for a quarter. I watched passengers board from lower-income neighborhoods. Sometimes a giant shopping center would pop up. Panamanians are mall-obsessed. I think Black Friday here lasts like four days.

When the bus announced “aeropuerto,” I knew my time had come. Turning right, I followed the lit path monitored by police to departures, showing up dirty with ripped pants and broken flip flops six hours before my flight, and with a flood of feelings because Panama was so so good to me.