01/08/2012
Isla Colon is the largest island in Bocas del Toro. Populated by brightly colored shacks and tin thatched roofing, the island has a surprisingly urban feel. All the main roads are well paved and support the unending foot, bicycle, golf cart, car, and taxi traffic. The main road is lined with restaurants, bars, merchants and lively tour booths. In the area we are staying there are no real beaches. Instead where the land cuts off it is one creaky dock after another. We walked the town and I was surprised by the amount of young backpackers who flooded the streets with their hippy clothes and care free attitudes.
Sunday morning was tranquil with a calm breeze, slight overcast and light drizzle. Bill and I sat on the veranda and soaked up the peace. The afternoon was filled with more street meat and beer. The action began once we took a tip from a white-haired man sitting in the restaurant of our hotel. Bill wanted to watch the playoffs and he recommended a place called the Rip Tide, which is an old fishing boat converted to a floating bar.
With trepidation we walked the squeaky plank and up onto the boat. As we made ourselves comfortable at a table behind the bar I overheard Steve the sixty-one year old virgin sailor trying his best pickup lines on Kathy Susie the bar fly. I screamed when I heard him say to her that ‘everything looks bigger underwater’. Steve turned to us and so the night began.
There was a full moon rising on the edge of the water. We watched the Broncos-Steelers game, enjoyed our beers and got to know the crowd. Steve really was a sailor but far from a virgin. He had a kind heart and fowl mouth. Bill and him carried on and laughed their heads off. After finding out that I was a nurse he told us a story of how he had broken his ankle and needed three nurses to hold him up while he peed, one under each arm and the third for you know what. He was so proud of himself and the fact that he was able to share his fascinating story. We also learned that Kathy was far from a bar fly. She is a beautiful older woman who spent most of her life in real estate. She grew up on a huge ranch in the United States and now she lives and works on this booming little island selling property. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, the boat or balmy night but my head was spinning. Bill said he felt the same so we ordered an ice cream sundae to wrap up the evening.
01/10/2012
We both decided that the next day would be spent independently. I was in desperate need of a manicure/pedicure and a little indulgence. As I pampered myself, Bill wondered the town for countless hours. Along the way he met a local performer named Calypso Joe. Together they got into the beer and margaritas then recorded a Bob Dylan cover for me. It’s a Canadian meets reggae version of ‘Knockin on Heaven’s Door’ recorded on Bill’s handy-dandy pocket recorder. He came back to the hotel drunk and missed the afternoon check-in we agreed upon so I was pissed but he was so proud of his musical triumph I had to laugh. I love how easy it is for Bill to find himself in the most outlandish situations.
Later that night we went to the only sushi joint on the island. We were impressed to find the restaurant was owned by a 23-year-old girl from Toronto. During our meal a young female Argentinean saxophone player came to the restaurant and asked the owner if she could play. She played five soulful songs and talked to the crowd before she had to run off to a real gig. She was amazing and it was a fun treat for t he end of the night.
Tuesday was the day for adventure. After breakfast we set off to find a place to rent kayaks. We must have looked like a couple of lost tourists because a charming local named Raul came up to us and asked if we wanted to go to the beach. We followed him down to the dock where we paid a friend of his $20 round trip to take us to Isla Bastimentos. Isla Bastimentos is home to the famous Red Frog Beach. A small motor boat took us and a Israeli-New Yorker with his lively Ecuadorian girlfriend to the island. As we crossed the Caribbean Ocean, Giselle made endless exclamations about the gorgeous scenery and how happy she was that her papi whom she loved so much was taking her on an adventure. The ocean was beautiful and I enjoyed how the boat gently skipped through the water. As we approached Red Frog Beach the mangroves enveloped our boat welcoming us to the island.
The beach was overrun with families, couples, and scantily clad tourists from as far as Australia to as close as Brazil. There were palm trees, beach chairs for rent, and no red frogs to be found anywhere. Bill sat under a palm tree to protect his perfect complexion while I went to frolic in the water. The lifeguard warned me that the ocean was unruly and asked that I move further down the beach to where it was safer. The water was a perfect temperature so I dove right in without any hesitation. Well, I should have taken the life guard more seriously. The undertow was vicious and I was quickly pulled far out enough into the ocean where I could no longer touch the bottom. With every wave I tried to propel myself forward to the shore but found myself further out then before. I began to panic and it took a great effort to swim with the ocean but against the under current to get to a point where I could dig my toes into the ocean floor and fight the opposing force. As I struggled out of the water my heart was racing and I was eager to seek refuge under the palm tree with Bill.
I lay in the sun for a bit while Bill headed out of the heat and into the beach bar. Were convened there a couple of hours later and enjoyed freshly squeezed rum punches made of mango, papaya, watermelon and pineapple. They were so refreshing and had a uniquely satisfying flavor. I was in beach bar heaven. The bar crowd was boisterous and the music enjoyable. A couple of local woman came in with their children. One adorable little boy in particular who couldn’t have been more than three years old started to sway his hips to the music. He was so unequaled in his natural rhythm that he became the center of attention and every 20 something yea old girl went cooing after him.
At 4:30 Bill and I were to meet our motor boat taxi back on the dock along with three girls from Australia. Around 4:26 our boat was nowhere to be found. The driver of another boat asked us if we wanted to catch a ride with him. Having already paid our guy we refused. He said “Okay, but I don’t see your ride anywhere”. We were all a little nervous hoping we wouldn’t be left stranded. But just then we saw our taxi arriving on the horizon and like all of our experiences so far, Bill and I found the people of Panama to be honest and trustworthy. During our ride back to Isla Colon, the sun was aligning itself on the ocean and the eve of a beautiful sunset began to glimmer on the water.
