MaxMitch

We cross into Panama through the little used Rio Sereno border outpost. The border town of Rio Sereno is a dusty village populated mainly with indigenous coffee pickers from Panama that move across the border for the annual coffee harvest season. Our taxi driver tells us we should feel glad we are not arriving on a Sunday, when the locals get extremely drunk and fist fight until no one is left standing. We arrive at the Costa Rica migration station only to find the border worker is off for lunch, so we sit, enjoy the dusty sunshine and wait. About 40 minutes later he appears, stamps our passports and we are on our way. We walk down the main drag and realize that, without knowing it, we have crossed into Panama! We backtrack and find the small migration check point hidden behind a fence, surrounded by indigenous Panamanians all waiting for entry or exit. The Panamanian border guard is out to lunch as well (how is this possible when Panama is an hour ahead?) So we wait an hour for the guard to come back. He takes one look at us and asks if we have our "estampillas." We are waiting for our stamps, right?, we respond. No, you must buy estampillas at the grocery store, he says. So we cross back into Panama, buy special Panama stamps, that look like postage stamps, and the border guard glues them into our passports and handwrites that our visa is good for 90 days. Finally we are legally allowed to enter Panama! We wander in, as everyone stares and wonders how in the world did two gringos get so lost.

A very nice mini bus takes us along pristine paved mountain roads to the town of Volcan, and on to the highland town of Cerro Punta. The scenery is green and gorgeous: waterfalls cascading over cliffs, verdant pastures sprouting wildflowers, rockly cliffs shrouded in mist. The countryside is clean and fresh. We arrive in Cerro Punta at dusk, and the temperature shocks us as we emerge from our overpacked mini bus - it is cold! Cerro Punta is a one-horse town where coffee, trout, and strawberries rule. In five minutes we have seen the whole town - an ageless mountain village where nothing looks older than 1970, prosperous in its way but without much going on (except on Sunday, with the drinking and the fighting...) We wander over to the neighboring village of Guadalupe, where we have heard of a grand mountain lodge with a large fireplace. We are not disappointed and we enjoy a trout dinner with plenty of red wine and hot chocolate, enjoying the fire and dozing to the sound of avid birders planning their grand excursions to see the elusive resplendant quetzal.

We too are on the lookout for the quetzal, and have been on a half dozen mountain trails that purport various sitings of the bird. But here in the Panamanian highlands is the Sendero de los Quetzales, supposedly one of the best spots in Central America to see the bird - sometimes they are even spotted along the road! Our plan for the following day is simple: according to our guidebook only 8 km separate Cerro Punta from the town of Boquete - our goal for the next night. We will hike, with our full packs, this short distance on the beautiful, moderate, downhill Sendero de los Quetzales, holpefully arriving in Boquete in time for an afternoon cafecito. But, like previous hiking adventures, we run into numerous snags (see misadventure below) and arrive to Boquete moments before nightfall.

Lucky for us, we have arrived in Boquete on Sunday, and so we are able to witness, from a distance, the spectacle that is Sunday in these highland towns. Despite a drizzly rain, the streets and billiard halls are packed with locals, becoming rowdier and louder as the hour becomes later. We retire to our hostel as the raucous fighting begins, but we witness the damage done the following day: the streets littered with enough drinking detritius to resemble an outdoor frat party. The rain sets in (thank God it didn´t rain while we were hiking!!) and we spend a day recovering and relaxing in this small town - whose main claim to fame (besides the beautiful mountain scenery and fabulous coffee) is the huge influx of planned foreign retirement communities rising on its outskirts. Gringos fill the breakfast cafes and juice bars, and mix awkwardly with the locals, still recovering from their Sunday night brawls. We leave Boquete in a perplexed state, feeling like we don´t quite get Panama yet.

On our way out of Boquete we panic: here we are, day 98 of our journey, and we are still in Central America! Despite several great recommendations for diving and beach hang outs on both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, we decide to make a bee line for Panama City. We are itching for a new continent and time is slipping by.... it´s time to plan our crossing of the Darien Gap - the lawless jungle territory inhabited primarily by Colombian guerilla fighters that separates Central and South America.

We arrive at Panama City´s giant bus terminal/airport/mall in a dazed state. Panama City is wildly modernized, with perfect roads, new long haul buses (ours had over 30 tree air fresheners!), and every first world product imaginable. After all, pretty much every good coming or going makes its way through this port; we have arrived in the center of the commerical world. Yet for all its wealth and importance, Panama City is a confused place - unwelcoming to the independent traveller and almost impossible to navigate on foot. We take our lives into our hands every time we try to walk to the grocery store on the sidewalk-less roads. At first we plan to spend a week or two in Panama City, planning our time in S. America, Nelson applying to grad school, hey, we might even find some work to do. But we quickly find the City unhospitable at best, and begin searching for the first flight out. We get the last two seats on a puddle jumper going to Pereira, Colombia - a little visited city in Colombia´s coffee country. We later find out that every flight (and cargo ship) going to Colombia before Christmas is sold out, and Colombians are being turned away. We are very lucky.

While waiting for our flight South, we have some time to enjoy Panama City. We explore the modern wonders: the Panama Canal, the Canal Zone (which is a spitting image of SF´s Presidio), the giant new luxury harbor, the fancy shopping areas, the Smithsonian´s Tropical Research Center, and "Super Rey" - the best super market in Central America! We also spend time in Casco Viejo, the original colonial Panama. This gorgeous neighborhood, separated from modern Panama City by several dangerous ghettos, is up-and-coming, with massive rennovation underway of the classic churches and traditional colonial mansions. Old dungeons have been turned into French restaurants, every house affords views of the massive ships waiting to enter the Canal, Kuna natives sell their gorgeous textiles at every corner, and children in rags play in front of run-down buildings next door to luxury loft complexes. A perplexing place.

On December 17, we bid adieu to our home continent and board a small prop plane heading South, finally!

Best moment: Witnessing the engineering marvel of the Panama Canal. Beyond our wildest expectations, the Miraflores Locks blew our minds. For at least an hour, we stood, open-mouthed, gaping as container ships - looking like skyscrapers on their sides - slide through the lock with only two feet to spare on each side. The museum was equally interesting, explaining the intense politics that led to the launch of the Canal project by France all the way up through the racism and stratification that occured during the American management period. We are now Canal experts - ask us anything!

Most unfortunate adventure: Our very challenging hike on the Sendero de los Quetzales between Cerro Punta and Boquete. The guidebook described this hike as "a moderate and rewarding day hike, all downhill." "The hardest part is getting to the trailhead on the Cerro Punta side," says the book, "which requires a steep uphill hike up a rough road." We should have known at this point that the description was misleading. We hired a 4WD pick up to take us to the trailhead, and as soon as we left the paved road, the rough road quickly became a dry, rocky creek bed that heaved us up and down with every touch of the gas. More of a dry waterfall than a road, we were relieved when we reached the ranger station to begin our journey, our full packs on our backs. The first 3 km were muddy and rough, but passable. We took our time and watched our step. But after passing the first look-out, where most day hikers turn back, things took a turn for the worse. The trail began to degrade signifcantly, sometimes it was a rocky minefield, other times a muddy sliver, but the worst was yet to come. The trail had been outfitted with a series of steep steps every several hundred feet. A heavy storm must have taken these out not long ago and they have not been repaired, leaving a series of slippery, steep cliffs. Without packs navigating these drops would have been a challenge, with packs it bordered on a nightmare. We slowly lowered ourselves over each treacherous cliff, only taking two painful tumbles during the whole trip. The trail exhausted us, and as we neared a loud river, we thought we were near the end. Lo and behold, we needed to ford this powerful, icy river that reached our calves. Success! we thought after we crossed the river without dumping ourselves or our packs. We seemed to have reached the end of the trail and we found a rocky dirt road. We must be close, we thought. We took a turn around a bend and then saw a steep uphill before us, labeled "Hill of Misery." This was not in the guidebook - it was supposed to be all downhill! We trudged our way, directly uphill, for about 4 km until we FINALLY reached another ranger station, where, luckily, a taxi collectivo was waiting. We thought the trip would take us four hours, it took us eight. We thought we were in shape, I guess we weren´t. At least it wasn´t raining.

Best meal: We had a series of good meals in Panama - from the great French restaurant in Boquete after our painful hike, to modern American cuisine at a posh restaurant in Panama City´s old town, followed by a trip to a smoky jazz club. But none of it holds a candle to Panama City hot dogs! These vendors could give the New Yorkers a run for their money with giant kosher dogs, lathered with mustard and ketchup. Then covered with plenty of chopped lettuce, onions, and - the kicker - crumbled potato chips and super-picante Panama hot sauce! Served with a fresh Pineapple-Orange juice (the PERFECT accompaniment) all for 75 cents! Yum.

Favorite person: We had a series of negative encounters in Panama - ranging from the lunching border guard to the angriest man in Panama - the manager of the Voyager Hostel in Panama City. The nicest folks we met were Colombians (there are many in Panama). One helped us find our plane tickets out of Panama, one advised us on where to go in Colombia, and one invited us to stay with him in Bogota. Nice preview of what´s to come.

View photos as a slideshow!


Powered by Flickr Photos