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It's been a while since the last blog, but we've got a good excuse, honest. Well, it's a ruddy brilliant excuse from our perspective, but you might want to skip this blog if you're sick of hearing about how we've had Caribbean islands to ourselves etc. Just look at the pretty pictures of the deserted beaches instead, that'll help. Or read the bit about mosquitoes if you're feeling less charitable.
So, leaving the cool of the cloud forests behind (you can tell project mega-beard is turning into a exercise in sweat control, but it's still there) we headed for Costa Rica's Caribbean coast and Puerto Viejo. Turns out it was a full moon the day we arrived. Think full moon, think $3 all you can drink, right? A more natural progression from there is probably a storm force hangover. As it happens, they're not much fun in 30C and 90% humidity. This trip is just full of surprises. Including the mosquito who got past the 50% deet and up my trouser leg - turns out my calf is the human equivalent of a rotisserie chicken as far as our little buzzy friends are concerned, and it was party time down there. Not ideal. The blow was softened however by the fact I was distracted by a German getting exceptionally stressed about the lack of efficiency in Central American transport (in perfect but heavily accented English). Such comic genius almost made the chewing worth it.
Anyway, despite some excellent food, Costa Rica's last roll of the dice didn't convince us to stay very long. The country is undeniably beautiful, we loved Monteverde and we had a lot of fun elsewhere - thankfullly my Spanish is now just about at a level where I can try to convince San Jose taxi drivers to say, have an occaisional glance in front of them, inbetween pointing furiously at 'sights' we couldn't see and telling us Italy is beautiful...all the time haggling over prices because his meter's 'broken'. We met a lot of nice people but to be honest we also met quite a few who weren't, both travellers and locals; it just seems everyone's missing the same, vibe's not the right word, attitude's perhaps closer, let's just say it's that certain je ne sais quoi which makes things flow so nicely elsewhere.
Undaunted, we struck out towards Panama and Bocas del Toro; a collection of islands just off the north west coast, lapped gently by the crystal clear Caribbean. This was more like it - no biting swines and air con for the same price as our oven north of the border. And the food continued to be good. One restaurant insisted on orders late morning so they knew how much fish to pluck out the sea for lunch. Another, run by a Belgian who's cheffed in London & Paris but got stuck after 2 years travelling Latin America, cooked the finest darn fillet steak I've had in a very long time. Dad, don't panic about that comment, it's all the rice talking, I'll put things back to normal when we hit Argentina. Anyway, $1 beers helped all things culinary along nicely.
The beaches were lovely too; where the main island lacked a decent strip of sand the done thing is to get a boat out to an island of your choice. Of course that leaves room for some error in picking where to be dropped off - you'll see where this is heading, but I will say that next time I opt for a 45 minute uphill jungle hike, I'll likely take more than flip flops and a pair of board shorts. Wasn't entirely our fault; the locals without exception told it was 10 minutes round the corner, and judging by the speed they passed us on the trail (barefoot obviously) I kinda believe them. Maybe the mud we got bogged down in was simply a result of my monumental sweat production, but we've learnt to ask for things in gringo time now. Goes without saying the beach was worth it when we did get there though.
Apart from that we whiled away our time dolphin watching (or chasing - the Panamanians haven't quite got the hang of unobtrusive eco-tourism yet and I think we were more relieved than the dolphins when that was over), lying around on uninhabited islands and snorkelling marine reserves. Made London seem a long way away. It seemed that little bit more tangible when it rained unchecked for nearly 24 hours, leaving water so deep in the main street it had waves in it, but we didn't mind - we got to watch TV, which becomes a novelty again after 6 weeks or so. Don't worry, we're not planning on it happening again.
Sadly, the budget was beginning to suffer, so we headed back to the mainland - we even got a boat in daylight, which seemed preferable to the one we took in pitch black after a minor landslide delayed our route into Panama. Think the UK should experiment with the Panamanian response to traffic jams - three quarters of the drivers get out their cars to walk up to the cause of the delay and berate the guilty party (be that mother nature or otherwise). The remaining drivers stay put in their car and instead voice their concerns and complaints through the gift of the horn, which both speeds progress and never ever gets annoying. They also have the privilege of trying to run down as many of the car-leavers as possible, as they sprint back to their vehicles when it looks like the road has been cleared (note looks like, it doesn't mean there won't be another hour's delay). Not for them the Great British reserve of queuing to pass the hazard in question, far better to turn both sides of the carriageway into a makeshift demolition derby. Last person with a working horn and 3 intact tyres wins. In the land of mañana, the road is not a route to tranquility.
We skipped more cloud forest walking in the highlands where the trails were closed and found the country's second city, David, to be unremarkable save for tenuous Craig puns. With that it was onto Panama City. Well, eventually, after waiting over an hour for 8 people in front of us to buy a ticket. And here's what I don't get. For a country that's taken so many slices of American pie to heart - Panama City itself wouldn't look out of place further north - they do seem to be missing a trick or two. Take the supermarket for example - the cashier slowly scans, packs and takes money whilst the shopper (and the massive queue of others behind them) look gormlessly on. Now clearly this causes an almost allergic reaction from the process efficiency freak in me, but everyone seems to think of it as very normal - they'd far rather argue about who was where in the queue (but not about personal space) than question why the process was taking so long in the first place. The road rage so prevelant elsewhere melts as soon as they're back on two legs. No vonder ze Germans dislike it.
Anyway, back to travelling. Panama city looks quite big-city-generic, although the old quarter could be stunning, it just lacks the investment needed to restore it, but that certainly seems to be coming. It's been a while since we've seen a true ghetto of poverty (San Jose spreads it's social problems more broadly & thinly) and all in all it seems the places to be are either in a high rise building or an SUV. But the canal is very impressive, perhaps more so in its construction than to look at now; a fear that manifests itself in the Panamanians employing a MC to try and hype the crowd of retired American cruise ship tourists into a frenzy for each lock opening, but it's nevertheless very enjoyable.
Still that's not really what we came for and it's why we hopped in a jeep, onto a boat, then another boat and headed for the San Blas islands; 378 (one for evey day of the year as the locals say) outcrops in the, you've guessed it, Caribbean. And it is paradise. $25 a day gets you nigh-on your own island, 3 meals a day, a cabin a metre or two from the shore and a whole big bunch of isolation and nothing - perfect. Yes there's no electricity, showers are limited to how much rainwater the barrel on stilts with a tap's collected and you do eventually crave something other than lobster or fish straight out the water lapping at your toes, but standing in the middle of a postcard, life feels very very sweet indeed. Our days consisted of waking with the sun rise, a pre-breakfast swim (the sea breeze kept everything in the high 20sC day & night), food, swim, hammock, snorkel, hammock, food, hammock, food, poker (shells are 1, wood chips 5) and bed. Life on an island that you can walk round in 2 minutes, or better yet swim round across the corral reef in 10, isn't very complicated - it's almost as easy as slicing the tops off coconuts fresh out the tree (something I heartily recommend). In fact the main disturbance to this little slice of nirvana was dodging the aforementioned coconuts when the sea breeze got up a bit. And, so that not everyone hates us, yes the breeze did get up 'a bit'. It also rain a smidge, but hey I was grateful for the soaking I got through our not altogether waterproof palm thatch whilst lying in bed - it was a bit humid, ok? But these were trifles that Costa Rican travellers would have complained about; our hosts (native Kuna Indians) were too nice and our fellow travellers too chilled for any of that to matter - it was the perfect end to Central America. Although I'm quietly confident Claire appreciated my first proper shower in 4 days almost as much as I did.
So, we fly out to Peru tomorrow (my birthday for the eagle eyed among you) and are in South America until Christmas eve. We're walking the Inca trail to Machu Picchu this time next week and speaking to other people heading north, we've got a lot to look forward to down in the other hemisphere. Reflecting on the last six and a half weeks, think it's safe to say our favourite country was Guatemala, although Caye Caulker and Pelicano island in San Blas definitely scratched our beach-itch. We've met a lot of cool people and done some amazing stuff, not to mention sported some outfits that are only conceivably socially acceptable whilst travelling. I'm still not very quick at packing (or indeed making many decisions) and we're both carrying a bit too much in our bags, but think we're getting into this travel malarkey.
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