Sunning it up in San Blas

Sniff! I cannot believe how quickly time flies and that we’ve left the amazing continent of South America already - We flew out of Colombia and up to Panama a few days into June. From the ‘white city’ of Sucre, to the beaches of Uruguay and the people of Colombia, I LOVE THIS CONTINENT! Oh well, got to keep moving north or there will be no hope of getting to Europe.

Getting out of Colombia was not without some fun. We waited and waited to be allowed through security to get to our gate. All we were told was that it wasn’t open yet. We thought that was a bit weird, but we just figured it was another odd South American thing – we filled our time wandering the tiny duty free shops of Cartagena airport. When we finally got past the security guard at the door, we were greeted by the usual metal detector and bag x-ray. Nothing out of the ordinary at this stage. However, because of all those nasties leaving Colombia tucked inside drug mules, they have uped security to the extreme: our hand luggage was then physically checked, we were frisked, and then sent upstairs for full body x-ray and finger printing. Intense! It was fun seeing everyone’s x-rays on the screen though. I was tempted to ask for a copy of mine, haha. To top it off an evening of searches, they thought Claire’s big pack had ethanol in it. They proceeded to empty the entire contents of her pack in front of us as we stood there wondering if we would ever get everything back in and manage to close it again. No ethanol though. We figure it must have been her perfume.

We finally made it to Panama, though we doubted we ever would – having to make the two hour trip in a tiny little propeller plane. Getting to our hostel wasn’t the safest I’d ever felt either. Our cab driver, though ‘official,’ was dodgy. The fact that the police take your details and where you’re going as you leave the airport does not make you feel any more comfortable. The problem with cabs begins though with the fact that there are no metres in cabs over here. You have to negotiate with the driver how  much the trip is going to cost before you get in the car. For some reason, they reckon they can charge you more the more people in the taxi. They also think they can charge a foreigner 200% of the normal fare. When you arrive in a new country at midnight after a long day of travel, the last thing you want to do is bargain with these idiots. Though I do feel sorry for people who have to work so hard for every last dollar, the way they try to milk you gets on my nerves. Your white face makes them think dollar signs. I wish they were right. I keep telling them that if I had money my backpack would be a huge suitcase with wheels. Our cab driver in Panama was a particular breed of tool. He tried every trick in the book to make us pay more for our cab – including trying to tell us that there was a ‘high road’ that is faster and safer to drive into town that costs $3 and then a ‘low road’ that is dangerous and will take heaps longer, however we would have to pay extra to take the ‘high road’ – this was after we’d already decided on the price, a rip off US$28. He got so annoyed when we said we wanted to take the low road – clearly frustrated that his little trick didn’t work. He took the high road anyway, paying for it himself. I bet there is no low road. He managed to squeeze an extra few dollars out of us anyway however when our hostel stuffed up our booking and didn’t have space for us. Though he was driving to the other hostel we chose anyway because we were sharing the cab with a couple of Dutch girls and that was where they were staying, he decided it would cost us a few dollars extra to go there. Argh, they really rub me the wrong way.

Anyway, back to the trip - Having majorly overstayed in South America, we made an executive decision to jump straight up to Guatemala from Panama. Unfortunately, the cheapest way to get across the 4 countries or so in between is a 50 hour bus ride, spread out over 3 days. In preparation for bus hell, and to remind ourselves that there are beautiful and peaceful beaches out there in the world, unlike Playa Blanca, we thought we would spoil ourselves and head to the San Blas Islands.

The San Blas Islands, about 365 in total, are just off the coast of Panama. Except for the odd tribal family (the Kuna Yala people) that live on some of the Islands, the majority of them are deserted – that is my kind of beach! The Spanish didn’t think the islands were worth conquering, so the Kuna Yala have lived there totally removed from the modern world for generations; except for the modern flushing toilets that you now find hidden in discrete corners of the islands and the plastic garbage that is strewn all over the waters edge of the main islands of Carti. Unfortunately, the Kuna people, who for generations have thrown their biodegradable waste into the sea, haven’t changed their ways since the introduction of plastic and the like into their daily lives. The result – a waterline of garbage around the islands of Carti. Luckily, just an hour from Carti, the water is pristine.

To get to the islands we had a two hour roller coaster of a car ride through the Panama jungle. We didn’t get off to the best start – we were supposed to be ready to go by 5 am. We were abruptly woken at 5.21am by the driver with ‘you’re late.’ Whoops. I must have rolled on my phone and turned off the alarm in my sleep. Our sleep-in worked out in our favour in the end - the cars not departing for another 15 minutes or so. So, while we were snoring, everyone else was standing around on the street waiting for the vehicles. We even got time to run to the fridge and grab our left over pizza to munch along the way, much to the disgust of one American guy who wouldn’t quit telling us how much he disliked eating cold pizza. Luckily for him we weren’t going to offer him any anyway. The car bit took so long. What felt like every 5 minutes or so we had a ‘coffee break’ or some other kind of ‘break.’ What we were told would be a couple of hours ended up taking more like four. The worst part was hanging around at the supermarket where we stopped to pick up last minute supplies. We also had to pay for our transportation here. It was seriously dodgy. We were all shooed into the ‘office’ of Lam Brother’s Transportation. This ‘office’ was above the supermarket, through the carpark and into a room that contained only a lady and a desk. Oh well, we made it back in one piece.

Eventually everyone was done with their supermarket shopping and we were back on our way. We drove through rivers, up and down mountainous terrain, round hairpin bends - the road and the crappy driving leaving many people very car sick. We then swapped our car for a hollowed out tree canoe, powered by a tiny outboard motor. Though we putted along no faster than I imagine a sea cow would swim, spray and waves came crashing over the front of our canoe leaving a crust of salt all over us as we dried in the hot sun. The trip, supposedly one hour to the island, ended up taking at least two. They really have trouble here with time – probably stemming from the fact that no one here wears a watch. When we arrived at ‘Diablo Island’ we were greeted by, well, no one. Metres away, the abuela (grandmother) of the family dressed in her traditional attire of a colourful and arms and legs strangled from joint to joint in beaded bangles,  watched us curiously from inside her cabana. We were escorted to our cabana, complete with inflatable mattresses and left to our own devices, though a family of nine lived not 10 metres away. You actually feel a bit intrusive – it’s like wandering around in someone’s home and they keep very much to themselves which makes it all the more awkward. Especially when they call you for the breakfast, lunch or dinner that they have prepared for you and you come to the table to find your food just sitting there with no one to thank for it.

Which brings me to another point – All they eat is FISH! Those of you who know me well enough will know that I don’t eat seafood. Not prawns, not lobster, not tuna. Never have, but I won’t go as far as saying I never will. To avoid absolute starvation for the 2 nights we were there and to avoid being rude, I had no choice but to munch away at the fish, head and all, lying on the plate in front of me. At first, I couldn’t really stomach it. I picked away at it rather grotesquely. But, by the third straight meal of fish and rice, it suddenly began to taste more like chicken. In fact, much to Claire’s shock and my own, I even said that I was ‘enjoying it.’ I never thought that would happen! Though I still wouldn’t order it in a restaurant anytime soon, I am getting used to fishy flavours. Gross – still don’t think I’d like anything that was too fishy though.

San Blas is so peaceful and so beautiful – somewhere I would definitely recommend, especially if you have your own yacht to cruise around and explore untouched islands with. Palm trees full of coconuts blanket the islands; the sand is immaculately white; the water is so transparent, so crystal clear, that I could see my feet and red toenails though I was wading in water chin deep. It is spectacular. The only problem, if I had to say something is the glare. Even with sunglasses, you squint so hard all day that I know I came back with extra eye wrinkles.

With absolutely nothing to do besides lie on the beach, swim and read that is all we did for 2 days.  We also ventured to ‘Isla Perro’, ie. ‘Dog Island’ (I have no idea why it is called that, there are no dogs there and it is not shaped like a dog in the slightest) which was just two minutes away. ‘John’ from the family said he would paddle us over in his canoe. We were lucky to get there.  His ‘canoe’ was a much smaller version of the hollowed out tree motorised canoe we’d taken earlier – though this was was only two metre long. The thing weighed a ton, and took three of us to pull it into the water. It also took a lot of concentrating on sitting still so that we didn’t flip it - with every stroke the canoe tipped violently to the other side, water lapping over the lip. Camera in hand, we were very worried we weren’t going to make it. To make matters worse, the poor guy sounded like he was going to suffer a stroke at the amount he was puffing from paddling. We must have been really heavy – he brought reinforcements to help paddle us back…

Why did we head to Perro Island? Just 10 metres or so from shore there is a shipwreck. We swam out to it and clambered all over it, trying not to fall in any of the rusty holes where giant, brilliantly coloured fish were lurking in the dark. We were having a wonderful time until someone who turned out to be a nobody thought he would play ‘shipwreck police’ and tell us to get off, though we’d seen heaps of people doing exactly the same thing days before. Not that we would have had much longer to explore. Just minutes later the sky turned black, and a huge storm blew in – we are in hurricane season after all. We were forced to retreat to our cabana to continue our lounging around. After dark, a spectacular lighting show lit up the horizon. I was so glad we weren’t in hammocks under a tree somewhere.

Two days of bliss!