Vacations just aren't what they used to be. Remember Brad and Janet, er Angelina? They went off to deepest darkest Africa to have a baby or something. Two of the richest people around and they went to relax in a third world country. I think they did a good deed to reduce the official infant mortality rate and help with natal tourism. I wonder if they got a discount.
Anyway, I already live in a second world country and don't have Brangelina's cash to buy off the local officials, so I crab-walked into another second world dive, in the form of Bocas del Toro, Panama. Welcome to the Hotel of the Dawn Waves:
--and the neighborhood surrounding this rustic paradise:
Though I didn't run across what I would consider a baby birthing place that would qualify as Hollywood worthy, I did find other services in the public sector:
Fire.
Public safety.
I didn't get a chance to fire off a shot at them, but I did actually see armed and uniformed officials putting along in one of those little three-wheeled meter maid type vehicles. I thought it best not to approach, even though I could have outrun the buzzing machine had I violated some occult island custom. I had nowhere to run to.
Though fear of the unknown kept me from poking sticks at the locals, that didn't mean there was absolutely no fun to be had. I had just completed my first and last walking tour of the joint (and was suffering the results of the idiot idea that I could do such a thing in flip-flops), when from emerging around a corner I found that a parade was headed my way:
So I stopped to take a picture or two.
It turned out to be a funeral, but it also turned out to be the most fun to be had in Bocas.
The thing is that I really didn't come to Bocas to have fun. This was a run to get out of Costa Rica for 72 hours and renew my visa. A new law has just been passed (although Immigration says it doesn't have the resources to enforce it) that provides for immediate deportation of anyone found to have overstayed their official welcome. I left the computer at home, took a couple of books, and got on a turboprop out of Pavas.
Here's a handy map of Bocas at the airport to reassure visitors that they are not likely to get lost anytime soon. Notice the mosquito breeding puddle to the bottom left:
This shot is peeking around the corner of the airport terminal at the ground crew. The buildings in the background are homes, not airport services.
This one's kind of fuzzy, but we were flying in the rain and it gives you an idea of the place:
Much later. I'm at the shop, the morning girl was late and I had to do the cleaning and set up for the day. She's here now and has the task of writing the instructions for opening the store so a monkey could figure it out. I just wrote up the closing instructions as an example. Happy isn't exactly what she is, as she's wearing sunglasses, possibly to avoid showing off the morning-after-Friday-night-eyes.
Last night we rearranged and added to some of the displays and the store looks more full and complete. Like most buildings here this one doesn't come with air conditioning, which is occasionally a problem because of the lights I've added. I'm going to have to do something about that soon.
Back to Bocas:
Well, enough of that. I'd be lying if I didn't admit there were better places on the island, but you can get those pictures elsewhere on the web. Plus, they are in a definitive minority. Bottom line is that the main road is paved, as is the short road to the airport. More or less. The rest of the island is dirt, and when I was there it rained, which brought out the divine smell of raw sewage.
A vast majority of the tourists were very white, hippy-ish, mostly female and a mix of Euros and Gringos. A small hard core of gritty old ex-pat gringos seems to inhabit the town center; and real estate offices are prominent. Which means anybody with an interest in the island may take issue with this little piece. That said, it still is a place to go get lost for a while, with cable TV and internet service. It seemed very safe as well, and you'd have to go out of your way to get into trouble.
So a couple more pics of the flight home:
Approaching downtown San Jose.
About a thousand yards away from my old place in Pavas. The big blue and white building is the Water Company, or something-Spanish-blah-blah-aqueducts. It figures that a place that has rain eight months out of the year would have as one of its largest most modern buildings the one in charge of the water. The building to the side is a large Jewish Temple, also quite large, modern and well guarded.
With Pavas in the background we have the Trilogy buildings where my mail service is located, and Plaza Itskatzu which is chock full of restaurants like Hooters and Outback Steakhouse, just a couple thousand yards from my current residence in Guachipelin. You can just make out the red sign for the local Office Depot on the bottom of the photo.
Making the swing over Pavas's collection of rusted tin roofs we see the runway.
Ah, home sweet home.
