Sal Si Puedes, Panama (Part 2)

Time for Part 2 of this adventure before I start forgetting all the fun and funny details of the trip!  If you follow my blog posts on Google Reader, you may want to log in to my blog directly to get the full story of the previous post.  I accidentally published mid-composition and had to take it back in to edit-mode to finish.

Anyway, let's see.  I left off with the awesome crazy thunderstorm that came through in the middle of the night.  The next morning, we all got up and decided to try out the snorkel gear.  There was a convenient set of 3, so we got to work trying on flippers, arranging face masks with the tubes, and washing mouthpieces.  We all looked AWESOME!


<--------------- Trying to figure out how this little spring-like-loaded contraption works.  If it goes underwater, does it seal shut so I don't breathe in the ocean?

Scott and I check out the gear

Examining the tubes and masks

It's hard not to drool when laughing with the mouthpiece stuck in there

WORD!

I can't help but laugh as I look over at Scott

BAM!

So we all flapped our flipper-feet down to the water to see what we could find.  I was anxious to see some fish and starfish like we had seen the first morning.  Let me just say first that I have never snorkeled.  So this was a new experience for me.  I waded out in to the water tentatively, as the dudes went right for it -- stuck their faces in and started kicking.  I prepared myself by breathing in and out of my mouth through the tube, then slowly put my face in the water.  Immediately, my breathing gets harder and faster, as my instinct is to NOT breathe.  I tell myself, "Don't panic!  You can breathe fine!  Just in and out through the mouth - not the nose"  It works for a bit, but then water starts rushing in to my face mask.  And I don't know how to breathe ONLY through my mouth.  It seems like there's still air going in and out of my nose, too.  So of course I panic and pop my face out of the water, tilt the mask to let the water get out, take note of the distance the boys have traveled in the last 30 seconds, put my mouth piece BACK in my mouth, and practice breathing again through the tube.  I get in a nice breathing rhythm and slowly lower my face back in the water for a Take 2.  Again my breathing picks up as soon as my face is submerged, and again I tell myself that I am fine.  I start to straighten out my body and move my flipper-feet, when water rushes in to my mask AGAIN.  I'm thinking maybe this is normal??  So I hold out for a bit and keep going.  Finally, I figure out the hard way that yes, there is still air going in and out of my nose, and I just sniffed up the tiniest bit of water.  That's it.  I'm done.  I stand up, rip my mask off and awkwardly walk my flippered-self to shore.  Dave sees me and asks, "What's going on?" To which I respond, "I don't like this."  (F-U!)

A few minutes later, the boys declare that it really isn't the best time to go snorkeling, as the storm from the night before really made the water murky and dirty; not much to see.  So they come to shore.  Scott is about to go inside, when we convince him that he REALLY needs to experience the floaty device.  You see, he had been sitting inside most of the day each day, directly in front of a floor fan watching tv and reading his book.  The heat and humidity was a little much, and he just couldn't seem to get any relief from the discomfort.  He and Dave took the floaties out for a nice morning ......  well, FLOAT.  And as expected, it was a little piece of heaven.










I settled in to the chair on the porch to read my book.  Eventually Scott & Dave came in from their float, and I heard the tv turn back on.  So I stuck in my headphones to listen to music while I read.  But I could still hear the laugh-track pretty clearly from whatever sit-com was on, so I took my book and my iPod down to the chair on the beach.

Have I mentioned yet how all the locals seem to congregate around our Casa?  It's true.  The first morning, Dave woke up to some banging.  He looked out the window and there was some dude hacking away at a tree with a machete.  Wha-?  Then there were the dozen crazy boys who played water polo for like 6 hours straight, screaming and yelling under the pier.

[The first day we were there, Dave and I played some Frisbee in the surf.  Very soon a little boy and his sister, Margarita (can't remember the little dude's name) came over to watch us.  When we would have a wild throw, one of the niños would run and fetch the Frisbee. We thought this was a nice set-up.  Then we started throwing it right to them, including them in our game.  Dave taught me a few Spanish phrases to use, since I kept saying things to them in English.  I learned how to say Good Job! (¡Bien Hecho!) and Almost! (¡Casi!). It was fun, albeit unexpected.  I felt like one of those peace corps people, interacting and bonding with the local children (minus the constructing of adequate housing and distributing of information on proper hygiene)...]  

And then there were the constant new faces who would just come to the pier, hang out for a few hours talking, then go disappear back in to the jungle wherever they came from.. Do all these people on the island hang out at this house whenever there aren't tourists in it?  We came to the conclusion that yes, they must.  There are just too many people who keep coming around and hanging out RIGHT in front of the house. (F-U!)








After a good bit, I am hot and sweaty in the beach chair, so I finish the chapter I'm reading, go inside to grab a glass of ice, then take a floaty and head out to the ocean.  Dave, I notice, has moved to the porch and is reading his book.  Scott is in his usual spot on the couch, fan pointed at him on HIGH, TV on.  He's already flown through the book he brought to read.

It doesn't take me long to fall asleep

Dave wakes me up so I can smile at the camera.

After snapping some shots of me sleeping in the ocean, Dave joins me on the other floaty and proceeds to tell me an interesting story.  But first some background: When in Bocas Town, we purchased a pineapple and a watermelon from a fruit vendor.  While we devoured the pineapple the first afternoon, we had yet to cut in to the watermelon.  I don't like watermelon, so I didn't even think about eating it.  Story: Dave figured it a good idea to cut in to the watermelon that afternoon, thinking it would be a nice refreshing afternoon snack.  He went to retrieve it from the counter and noticed there was some juice under it.  Hmmmmm.  So then he picks the watermelon up and it is FIZZING.  When he takes a knife to it, it actually explodes out, like a shaken up can of soda.  WTF?!?  Even after that craziness, Dave thought it would still be a good idea to sample the fruit, so he put a bit of it in his mouth.  Immediately, he spit it out, as it had gone completely rancid.  A fizzing, rotten watermelon?  In the trash.  (F-U!)

After a several-hour float, Dave and I head in to the house for a bit to eat.  It is then that we kind of realize that we don't have much food left.  The 3 of us have spaghetti for lunch, then decide that tonight is the night that we will go to 'the point' to get some fish and rice from the guy that Mrs-White-Neighbor told me about, and then we better ask Gregario to take us back in to Bocas the next day so we can get more food.  The grill is all set up on the porch for us to use, so Dave and I head out in the 2-person kayak with a little styrofoam cooler to fetch our dinner fixin's.  Grilled fish and rice for good eats tonight!!  We both feel that this is pretty cool; kayaking out in to the ocean to get our dinner.  Very Panamanian of us!

We eagerly head out, syncing our movements so that we quickly glide across the top of the water.  We pass a lot of houses.  We see a lot of locals.  We are happy to be kayaking for our dinner.  .......  FINALLY we reach the point of the island and the dock with a shop.  We see an old man sitting in front of the shop, but the shop windows are boarded up.  There is also a younger man on the pier, and a little boy.  We paddle up to shore, get out of the boat and walk up the pier with our cooler.  Dave starts talking to the man.  They exchange some words, Dave laughs, they talk some more, Dave looks around, they exchange a few more words, then Dave starts walking back.  It's times like these that I really wish I knew Spanish!  I really hate the language, but it sure is useful to know -- even when I'm not in Panama.  I ask Dave what was said and what's going on.  He tells me the following took place:

Dave: Good Evening!  Do you have any fish we can buy?

Old Guy: No, no fish.

Dave: Oh?  Are you closed?

OG: No fish.

**Dave chuckles uncomfortably**

Dave: What do you mean, no fish?  There's a whole ocean of fish out there! (said in a friendly way, while chuckling)

OG: Times are hard.

**Dave turns to the Young Guy**

Dave: We have money to give you.  Do you really not have any fish?

**Young Guy smiles and laughs uncomfortably**

YG: No, there isn't any fish.

**Young Guy walks away**

OG: Look!  That's what that boy is doing right now; trying to catch some fish.

**Dave looks and there is the little boy throwing a net over the side of the pier, then slowly bringing it back out of the water**

Dave: Do you have any rice or anything?

OG: No.

Dave: So do you think you'll have fish tomorrow?

OG: Times are hard.  Could be harder tomorrow. 

So we leave.  We walk the walk of shame down the pier, our shoulders a bit slumped.  We push the kayak in to the water, the empty cooler sitting between us, and we proceed to kayak back to our house defeated.  We were so eager and excited to come out here to buy some fresh fish from the locals and have ourselves a nice dinner, with Scott manning the grill.  To come back empty-handed is pretty depressing.  We have no motivation to get back quickly and be the bearers of bad news.  We have no dinner to look forward to.  It took us forever to kayak out here, and now we just have to go back with nothing to show for it.  Our hands are already starting to form little blisters from the paddles.  So we just drift for a bit.  We discuss what a let-down our little excursion was, and how the freak do they not have any fish?!?  Isn't that what their whole life is?  Generations upon generations have fished in this ocean.  They should know where the fish are.  They should be able to get fish, right?  It just seems bizarre.  What else do they do with their time on this food-desolate island?  Surely their day to day activities can only include fishing and coconut gathering and getting more palm leaves for their roof.  They must be bored out of their minds.  Same thing over and over again, day after day after hot day after humid day.  There is no change.  What is the quality of life out here, I wonder?  We conclude that they must not even know that killing themselves is an option.  (F-U!)

We laugh out loud with each other at our surmises of everything.  While drifting, we spot a TON of starfish!  So we spent the next 10-15 minutes trying to get one on the edge of our paddle.  We proceed to flip a bunch of them over, but can't quite scoop them up.  So we start paddling again and we see some HUGE manta rays scurrying out of the murk!  Very cool.  We finally make it back to the house just as it is starting to get pretty dark outside and tell Scott the bad news.  Scott declares that we really better get in to Bocas tomorrow to get more food.  Then he tells us that the tv is acting weird.  It keeps turning off.  He's hot and sticky.  We have no food.  He's kind of done with this whole thing and thinks we should leave a day early...  Dave and I say OK, as we know Scott's not had the best time here.  So the plan is to go in to Bocas the next day, go to the airport, and ask if we can change our tickets to leave a day early.  We have Pringles for dinner.

Stay tuned for Part 3...