All By Ourselves
13.01.2017 - 21.01.2017
Our only full day in the bay of Portobello was spent on preps and packing. What did I not do? Packing. Best idea ever. I did laugh at the Germans, who came by in their absolutely tiny, overloaded dinghy, in life jackets. They wanted to seem cool – look at us, we’re allowed in our dingy all by ourselves – but, well. Sadly we didn’t get to properly talk to them, and this would’ve been our last opportunity.
My group planned some more, and everything in the salon was piled into crates. Why? The next morning all of it was stuffed into cabins, making the salon look horribly bare and sound hollow. What was I doing in that time? Packing my bag. Right. As the first group stepped into the dinghy, I was writing a birthday letter to one of my best friends, who’s bday was the following day. When I’d finished it, her group had left. Great. We were the before last to go ashore, where a pleasant surprise awaited: Jurjen’s girlfriend (who he’d been on holiday with) had a rental car that happened to need to be dropped at the Panama City Airport. We crammed in, two in the passenger seat, five in the back, backpacks wherever they would fit. And we were off, praying the police wouldn’t notice. It was for that reason that we were dropped before the highway, which would’ve been too risky – she had a plane to catch. The bus it was. On our way to it we passed two other groups, one of which had the birthday girl. Bingo.
The bus ended at Elbrook Station, the centre of public transport. A.k.a. chaos, for those who don’t know it. As we were looking for a bus, we found out we needed to buy a pass, somewhere upstairs. Up we went, and down again. Ah! The bus to Via Espana would do the trick. It brought us close to Casco Viejo, the old and renovated part of Panama City. A kind man showed us the way, and there we stood, in the middle of a busy shopping street. At the end of it was a church, and we contemplated asking if we could stay the night. In the end we decided against it, mostly because the church’d close up pretty early, and we wanted to go out. On to Casco Viejo it was. We went from one hostel to the next, but everything was full. We stranded in Luna’s Castle, where we could use the WiFi to find a place. As we were frantically googling, they suddenly made us an offer: we could sleep on the couches and in the hammocks of the large lounge for a good price, including a pancake breakfast. We were overjoyed, and settled in straight away. The vibe of the place had appealed to us straight away, and it was perfect with our 20$ a person a day budget. Crazier still was that the first backpacker we talked to happened to have not one, but two friends who’d done SaS. Second one was also Dutch, also with a friend who had done SaS a few years ago. Weird shit.
Off we went to the supermercado, and emerged with spaghetti and tomato sauce with a few veggies and a bottle of coke. Could be worse. Nikki and I cooked that day, and everyone gobbled it up. But not before we’d come back to Thalitha’s group sitting on our couches. A moment of discussion, a bit of frustration, then it settled quickly.
Now, it happened to be Saturday night, and we happen to be young. A few from my group and a few from the other wanted to go out. Thalitha (a teacher) and Jurjen had to join, as we went past several clubs. In the end we went for the first we’d seen, with free entry and a free cocktail (which, of course, we didn’t have ;) ). S & J left us there, and we didn’t go for long. On the way back we stopped at a supermarket, and bought something we weren’t supposed to. Under the hostel was a bar, and a party. Two guys from T’s group joined us as we passed, M leaving, and we truly had a great time (plus another visit to the supermarket to “buy pads”). You’re probably thinking, this must be against the rules. You’re right, and you’ll find out why I talk about it so freely in my next blog.
We spent the next day exploring the centre, going from tower to tower to ask if we could go to the top. Another group bumped into us, and they’d gotten their eight asses into the Mariott Hotel for 65$ a night, looking all dirty with huge backpacks. Don’t ask me how. I wasn’t jealous though; we were in a way nicer neighbourhood, in a place with character and fellow backpackers. And we got our buildingtop, in one of the tallest buildings: the Hard Rock Hotel. They said we could go to the thirteenth floor. The lift had a button numbered 62. We happen to be rebellious teenagers.
The door opened to an empty bar, including a terrace on two sides. Everyone was amazed by the view, and the effect was doubled by the fact that we weren’t actually supposed to be there. It was definitely the height of our day (pun intended).
On the way up we’d seen some interesting floors when the doors had opened, so after lounging above the city we pressed a random button, only to explore one wondrous deserted floor after the next. Most were bars, with the weirdest shapes and colours. And everywhere, quotes or belongings of famous artists lay displayed. Madonna’s glove, this from The Beatles, that from Michael Jackson. I’ve never been in such a hotel before, and will not be quick to forget it.
We went back by bus, and not any bus. The shape of an American school bus, painted in wild colours from tip to toe. Add loud music, coloured lights and a crazy driver, and you’re just about there. This was a normal, line bus, I might add. Brilliant.
We left the next morning, with a bellyful of delish pancakes. I was almost sad to leave the place. The vibe is just amazing, the staff incredibly friendly, the lounge couches comfortable. If you ever find yourself in Panama City, Luna’s Castle is the place to be.
Our next stop was El Valle, a village in the crater of an old volcano. We bumped into two groups there, the same as in the City. After two unfriendly encounters, we finally found a reasonably priced place to stay. Off to El Macho waterfall before dark, walk around the abandoned park entrance counter. Cross a few hanging bridges, there it is. Take a picture or two. On to the natural pool, which wasn’t that natural. Lift back in a pick-up, improvise dinner.
We spent the majority of the following day travelling south-west, to Playa Venao. The daughter of friends own a Beach Resort on the bay, and we could stay there two nights for free. When we left El Valle we weren’t 100% sure about that, even when we arrived we were wondering if this really could be true. They’d prepared two rooms, with two double beds each. The place is right on the beach, with a beautiful pool. Of course we had to dive in before exploring the bay.
There was only one tiny, really expensive supermarket, which made eating out almost cheaper than buying stuff there, with the added aspect of having no kitchen. Eating out it was, in a cute little place. When our stomachs were full we went to the beach and started to collect driftwood and dead palm leaves. The fire we made was pretty big, the coals it died down to perfect for roasting marshmallows. I went to bed content, between wonderful soft sheets.
Sadly I was really sick during our full day there; I couldn’t keep anything down. While the others were happily surfing, I lay miserably in bed. But one can’t have everything in life, can one?
We left the second morning and tried to hitchhike but failed, so took a bus too Santiago. I was in a feverish state the whole time, jay. We ended in Boquette, in the dark, at a nice hostel – La Jungle Experience. Jurjen had forgotten his bag with his passport and money in the bus, which kept us there for the whole following day. We made the best of it, visiting a flower fair. It wasn’t that spectacular. Jurjen got a temporary passport, but guess what Cuba and Bermuda don’t accept? Precisely. And Panama can’t give proper ones, for some reason. Columbia or Costa Rica are allowed to, so he was off to the latter as soon as we were back.
On our last day we travelled to Bocas del Toro. At the end of the ferry trip we spotted the Regina and the Thor, all enthusiastic about seeing home again.
Bocas is very different from the rest we’d seen. Little, colonial-like houses on the water, a main street that made me think of a cowboy village in the old West. And very touristic. Which ups the price of everything, and, for me, takes away some of the authenticity of a place. Everything just seemed a little bit… fake.
We spent the afternoon there, on WiFi and wandering the streets, bumping into several groups. One we’d seen a lot of, but others had been off our radar since the first day, including most of my friends. It was so nice to see each other again. And so funny, to think of it. At home eight days apart is normal, but we’ve been together each and every day all day for the last three months. Imagine what it’ll be like when we’re back. Talking about that, holy shit! Only three months left. We’re on our way back now. Everything has gone so fast yet not at all and we’ve done and seen so much and now there’re only three stops left. How did that happen?
