Straight from the Bull's Mouth

Our time on Isla Colon in Bocas del Toro Panama has us in agreement that it was our favourite destination to date on this leg of the trip. Considering our decision to visit Panama was on a whim, we're already very happy we made it.

We arrived in Bocas from a night in David, which we used as a stopover on our trip from Dominical, Costa. Bocas del Toro is the capital of Isla Colon, which is the main island in a small group off the Northwest coast of Panama. Bocas is the name of the largest town and translates to 'Mouth of the Bull'. A better blogger would no why it's named that, so I admit my room for improvement. The trip there was a bit of a hassle and left us tired, but in the end was a blessing. We had planned to stay in the area for three nights but ended up getting stuck (locally called 'Bocanized') and staying for five.

Our first day was spent exploring the small town (basically 2 parallel streets about 500m long) and relaxing. We had been on the move a lot lately and were getting rundown, so we took a maintenance day. Don't judge. After a long duration of overcast weather in Costa, Panama finally delivered some clear skies on day two. We took the opportunity to rent bicycles in the early afternoon and rode all over the island, visiting remote beaches and touring through other smaller towns. It was a very 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona' kind of montage, and that doesn't make me gay.



The third day was the one we had planned a bit for, and it was the nicest weather we had seen since arriving in Central America. We attached ourselves to a tour that left early in the morning bound for our first stop, which was Dolphin Bay. If the name doesn't give it away, it was the local dolphin hangout and we hoped to sight a few. Luckily, in the 25 minutes we sat in the bay we got to see 4 pairs of dolphins, which was a huge highlight for Robyn. The playfulness of the animals was on display when a boat drove near a couple and started circling them. Without missing a beat the dolphins chased the boat, 20 feet behind, darting in and out of the wake and being generally awesome.


From there we went to Coral Key to snorkel. Although not comparable to Australia's Great Barrier Reef, we did get to see some great sealife and the full-palated colours of the local coral. We spent over an hour in the water (which led to slight sunburn on both our backs) and worked up a good appetite.
Lunch was next at a restaurant-on-stilts that was marooned in the middle of the bay, attached to an outcrop of mangroves. The coral and sand near the retaurant backlit the aquamarine water perfectly as the peaked sun continued to beat down. We ate our (packed) lunch at the end of the dock together and had a great time away from the others. It was a perfect moment.



Red Frog Beach was next, to digest some food and catch rays for an hour. Adhering to the '30 minutes after you eat' rule, we lounged for a while and played in the surf. The beach was a kilometre of sparesly populated white sand - inviting to say the least. On the way out we got to interact with some local kids who held the native red frogs captive in leaves in order charge tourists for pictures. Needless to say...


By now we were all pretty wiped so we went for one more short snorkel on the way back to Bocas and then landed again. It was an incredible day; well worth the sunburns and cost of aloe vera that ensued.
The last day was spent like the first, relaxing and enjoying the great hotel and town's vibe that we had truly connected with. We were excited for the next destination, but were truly sad to leap out of the Bull's Mouth.

Uncle Steve and Aunt Robyn

May not be travel-related, but it's my blog damnit and I'll write what I want!

Just over a week ago, Saturday August 7th, my brother Ryan and his wife Alison welcomed their first child, a boy, Aiden into the world. He came six weeks early and was light at 4lb 8oz, but he's a fighter and he looks to be pulling through. The ordeal was tough on both baby and mother but Alison's recovering and hopefully the whole family will be back at home soon enough.

This mean that Robyn and I are Aunt and Uncle, which we're very excited about! We feel removed and unable to help in any way being so far from home, but it's amazing the feelings of family, love, and responsibility we already have towards this small blessing whom we haven't even met yet.

Aiden's not quite out of the woods yet so please keep him in your thoughts so my brother and Alison can have him home in their arms soon.

In other, related, news our friends Jen and Al Agnew were delivering their first child, also a boy, Jessie, at the same time Alison was in the hospital. From what I have heard all is well for them and Robyn and I are very excited for their new family and wish them the best!

Thanks all.

Dominicalifornia Dreamin'

From Manuel Antonio we took a three hour bus ride to the small surfing town of Dominical which is still further down the Pacific coast. This would turn out to be the final stop in Costa for us, and it didn’t disappoint. As you may remember Robyn and I took surfing lessons in Guatemala, and we rented a board for a day in Montezuma so we were both excited to get back in the waves, and Dominical promised to be a great place to do so. The town is tiny, consisting of three main roads forming a triangle, and the whole area is probably 3km in diameter. In this area there are a few restaurants, more ‘tienda’ grocery stores, and the most populous business – the surf shop. I was amazed at how many places rented and sold surf boards and apparel in such a small town, and the number of options available for surf lessons. As our time played out in the town it was easy to see how closely-knit the whole community was. It was mainly gringo expats who have settled into a very low key lifestyle in which they work to surf. Attitudes are relaxed, clothing is functional, the ocean bathes everyone and haircutting is for suckers.
On our arrival we found our way to the hotel and checked in and then went roaming the town. We knew that we weren’t going to be in town very long and that we definitely wanted to ride, so our first order of business (after lunch) was to find the right outfit to get lessons from. After an exhaustive search we finally agreed that Kelly’s shop, right on the beach, would be the perfect partnership. $35 each got us a two hour lesson and free use of the board for the next 24 hours. This meant that we could have the lesson in the morning, go back for lunch, out again in the afternoon, and again the next morning. Pretty sweet deal.
We woke the next morning in order to make our 9am start time. The proper time for beginner surfing changes daily in accordance with the tides, and I learned that we would (typically) be learning in mid-tide. This meant that the tide is neither rolling in or out for the duration of our lesson, rather it’s in a holding pattern. This is the opportune time to learn because the waves are consistent and predictable and not too large. Apparently at low tides the waves are large and perfect tubes, but the water below them is too shallow for learners to safely ride. At high tide the waves are crashing very close to the shore and so there are too many sand bars in motion and rip tides to compete with. We met our instructor, Junior, at 8:50 and were off into the water. We shared our lesson with two French guys who were taking their first lesson but were in good spirits. As before Robyn rocked it. She was up almost every time she attempted it and by mid-session she was riding waves all the way into the beach. I was fortunate, this time, to get a board that suited my size and so I had much more success this time in properly riding and getting a feel for everything. We had a great time and I think we’re both quickly getting hooked on the sport.
After our lesson we went to the local hangout, Tortilla Flats, and had lunch. Back to the hotel for a refresh and back to the beach to catch some sun. Tortilla Flats again for dinner (there weren’t many options and this was, by far, the most lively and popular) where we had the amazing Nachos Fuerte and a few Imperials.
We were leaving the area the next morning, heading into Panama, but we still managed to wake early and get the boards again and catch some more sets. This time we were without an instructor and on our own, which was more challenging, but we’re both really enjoying not only being in the water but the learning curve of this great sport.
Another rinse off and lunch, and we boarded the bus to Panama….

Manuel's Hyperhydrosis is Contagious

We arrived in Manuel Antonio last Thursday, as mentioned before, and spent the first day relaxing and exploring the small town. We especially enjoyed our lunch at Cafe Milagro, which has an interesting story about its origins. The rains started on schedule around 3pm so we spent the early evening in our room and ended up ordering a pizza to the hotel. The poor delivery guy delivered the pie on foot while holding an umbrella and got soaked, but he had a huge smile on his face by the time he got to our room so I didn't feel too bad.

The plan was to take a guided tour of Manuel Antonio National Park on Friday morning. All the books and locals said that it was best to get to the park early in order to ensure entrance, as the rangers capped the number of people in the park each day. With this in mind we set our alarms as early as we could conmprehend and managed to make it to our free breakfast at the crack of 8:30. The park was about 3km from our hotel and we decided to walk under the beautiful blue Costa Rican skies, taking the chance to walk off the (delicious, free) french toast. It should be mentioned here that Costa Rica is very humid and hot - something about the equator and lush rainforests playing roles - and the mornings are the hottest as the clouds do not roll in until after lunch. As such the 3km walk gave my body a chance to sweat out about 2 litres of water, and I was drenched by the time we walzted up to the park's entrance.

At the gate we arranged for a guide, Franklin, to show us around. Strangely this was the second tour guide named Frnaklin that we've had in the last two weeks. He was a really nice guy who spoke near perfect English and told us about his extensive education and passion for the local flora and fauna. He carried a huge telescope and endowed me with the privelege, honour, and responsibility of carrying the binoculars! After meeting everyone in the group (a Spanish family and an unmarried, older Dutch couple) we started on the two-hour tour.

During the tour we saw black, green, and tiny lizards, large iguanas, two- and three-toed sloths, lots of birds, owls, white faced monkeys, squirrel monkeys (our favourites), howler monkeys, a nesting hummngbird, three deer, poisoinous spiders, and all the while I played the role of the giant white sweaty pig. It was a great tour. The walk ended on a beach within the park where more white faced monkeys darted amongst the trees and tried to steal the tourists' food. Despite their threat of attack and herpes, they were still cute.

The rest of the day included another Milagro lunch, the rains settling in, two of the happiest hours and a blotted sunset. We ate dinner as the heavens continued their onslaught and then were serenaded to sleep by bellowing howler monkeys in the trees around our hotel. Our time in Manuel Antonio was not even done but already it was one of our favourite places in the world.

Robyn's Birthlongweekend

It's quite belated but I thought I'd acknowledge and recollect Robyn's birthday, which was officially this past Sunday, August 1, but ended up blending into the two days on either side of the seventh day. I was introduced to this 'triple-birthday' phenomenon when I got to know the Fluxgold clan and have a sneaking suspicion that Robyn's mom Barb gave it's first rise to popularity. Regardless of its roots, it's always fun for everyone around when it's someone's birthday so I embrace Robyn's requests for extended jubilation.

The setting for this year's (28th) bday party was Montezuma, which I have alluded to in earlier posts, but will acknowledge now as a great place to celebrate anything. The list of invitees was smaller than average this year but both invited guests showed up to the event and Scott and Ashlet were almost as excited as Robyn herself. We started the festivities on Saturday with a homemade pasta meal in the common-area-kitchen in our hotel. Fusili and garlic bread was married beautifully with white wine and local beer. Satiated, we moved the evening into the drinking game portion, playing 'British Asshole' (which was the entertainment for the vast majority of our time together). I won't go into the details of the game, but it does provide hours of entertainment.

After a sufficient amount of time playing (and beers finished as funishments) we ventured out of the hotel and took to the streets. The small town has only one real nighttime destination and we trod the well-worn path to Chico's bar with smiles on our faces. Saturdays are he busiest nights in town and the dance floor was packed with both locals (Ticos) and travellers (gringos). We were merry but did not go overboard and the beer and shots flowed but not too the point of excess. As is typical in these areas, the policing method can be described as 'hoping to employ the honour system' which allows for a wide range of otherwise-illegal activities to take place in plain sight. Our entire group was exposed to acid for the first time as a local could be seen cutting up blotting paper at the table beside us and placing it on the tongue of his customers (and/or friends?). No need to worry though - no one felt overly anxious to give it a try. At the strike of midnight Robyn's birthday was ushered in and the party kept on unabated. The majority of the time was spent dancing and the four of us had a great time. Our style of dancing (the self-aware, harmless, drunken, repetitive, half-mocking) was in direct contrast to some of the gyrations and intentions of those around us, but all styles were welcomed on the dance floor.

We returned late to the hotel and loudly dove back into the leftover pasta meal, temporarily forgetting the presence of other hotel guests in adjacent rooms. We wound down eventually and fell asleep at a respectable time, in order to ensure we could still somewhat enjoy the next day, because, after all, it was Robyn's birthday.

Por Que(pos)?

It's 2:30pm local and I'm about to dive into my second shower of the day here in Manuel Antonio, where we're staying at the beautiful Mango Moon hotel for the night. I'm showering for a second time because we've just returned from the hotel's private beach and the heat and humidity demanded it of me.

We arrived this morning in Manuel from Quepos, where we landed yesterday. Quepos was the last (and most logical) stop for us on our bus route from Montezuma. The Lonely Planet guides recommend staying in Quepos as a cheaper alternative to staying in the Manuel Anotonio area itself but, while I agree that you can save some money, I completely disagree that it's a worthwhile (or even enjoyable) place to stay. We stayed for one night before making our way into Manuel.

Arriving into Manuel via short bus-ride, we tumbled off the bus, burdened by our heavy packs. The mid-morning heat was at it's most mercurial and I started to sweat almost as soon as we started walking. We visited four or five upscale hotels along the main road until our curousity was satisfied and our shirts' appetites had moved from whet to wet. We had decided before arriving here that this area would be one of the few along the trip in which we spoiled ourselves, and we are fine paying the relatively high cost of our current hotel because of the luxury it affords us.

We will be staying in this area for three nights, which will give us enough time to visit the nearby national park, which is the main draw for the area, and also grant us some time to visit the other beaches in the area. The private beach we just returned from was small, secluded, and quite lovely. Although it was a bit rocky, it was a novel experience to be able to lay on hard-packed sand in the glowing heat of the sun and not be able to see another person. Robyn even took this opportunity to let her European side get some air and went topless while we relaxed there.

On our returning walk we got to see another group of white-faced monkeys traversing across the tree limbs overhead. I can speak on Robyn's behalf when I say that neither of us will even tire of watching their very-sapien movements and seeing the curiosity in their faces upon seeing us. We got to watch about eight monkeys slowly make their way across our paths and move on to eat and explore elsewhere in the forest. Because we were going to the beach (and assumed others would be there, who we obviously pre-suspected would likely steal anything left unattended) we did not have our camera on us, so pictures of the animals will have to wait. Fortunately we plan to take the tour of the park tomorrow morning, where the camera will be charged and utilized fully.

Until then, I leave you with the view from our hotel's balcony.

Montezuma's Preemptive Strike

After spending two nights in Fortuna, at the base of the largest and most active volcano in Costa Rica, Arenal, Robyn and I left Scott and Ashley to spend Thursday night in Mondeverde. Mondeverde is known as the Cloud Forest Town and it didn't disappoint as the misty clouds rolled right down the main street, covering everything in a fast moving fog that constricted escaping views and gave the sleepy town an intimate feel. One night in town turned out to be enough, especially when our sleep was interupted by the couple next door who paid no attention to the latex-thin walls and forced us to endure their rapture. After a short night of gagging and fitful sleep, we left early Friday morning, bound for Montezuma. Upon our arrival in Mondeverde we were told that the only highway that would allow us passage to the necoya pennisula had crumbled just the day before, thus making the voyage difficult and convuluted.
In order to avoid paying $100 US for the two of us to take a shuttle, we needed to catch the first leg of a public transit bus at 6am Friday. Waking up, we both knew that we were in for a long day. We carried our bags on our backs and under our eyes and boarded the bus, which was typically old and musty. The first hour was uneventful until we started to approach the downed bridge, at which point the bus driver performed a grand 3-point turn and drove in reverse for about 3km, which was quite impressive. All of the passengers were baffled as to the reasoning for the manuever but we later realized that, as the road narrowed in order to feed the bridge, this was the only place at which he'd be able to turn the bus around, so he was preparing for his drive out of the area. We backed up to the crashed structure and got out of the bus. Surveying the damage and the cleanup efforts we walked over a catwalk and were on the other side. There we waited for another bus to saddle up, also in reverse, and hopped aboard.
This was a rather short ride because the bus was bound for San Jose and we needed to get off in order to catch the connection that kept us on our route. As we were getting out of the bus I met an older woman named Victoria who spoke fluent English and Spanish and was also on a similar path to us. We stayed close to her in order to avoid getting ourselves mixed up. The connection bus in Barranca drove us the 45 minutes into Puntarenas, where we could find the ferry to the peninsula. In Barranca all of the gringo travellers got off and basically formed a line behind Victoria, who seemed to know her way around. It was as if the seven or eight younger travellers were her kindergarten class on a field trip. Fortunately Victoria did know exactly how to get where she wanted, unfortunately she was destined for another bus stop and we were going to the ferry station, which were on opposite sides of the town. Despite my repeatedly mentioning our need to get to the ferry, she reassuredly guided us to the bus station doorstep before informing us that it was nowhere close to where we needed to be. The large group then split, with us being joined by a solo Japanese traveller named Yuza who also wanted to get to Montezuma. Yuza spoke little English and only slightly more Spanish, so you can imagine the silly scene of the three of us trying to navigate our way through a foreign city, unsure of the direction we needed to head and barely able to speak to each other. While walking as a group, with the map out and awed, confused looks on our faces, we finally tired of the laughter from the locals and asked for help. When it became clear that we were far out of walking distance we hailed a cab and hopped in.
The driver let us know that the ferry departed at 11am and not again until 1pm, and we were 5km away at 10:52. Needless to say, we needed to hurry. The cabbie proceeded to do his best Andretti impression, screaming down the sleepy streets of Puntarenas as fast as his old Corolla would take us. He was downshifting with a vengence and even used the handbrake on more than one occasion to take a turn at speed. It was an exhilirating ride and we luckily snuck in right at the ferry foghorn. We hustled onto the boat and found seats with about 45 seconds to spare.
Off the boat and the public bus is waiting to take us from the ferry town across the coast and into Montezuma. What we thought would be a 45 minute bus ride ended up taking another hour and a half, and me being the gentleman that I am, I allowed others to take seats at the outset of the trip. By now (2:30pm) we'd been on the move for 9 hours and was fading fast. Luckily the bus finally came to it's destination and we hurriedly exited the vehicle. WIth bags on backs we strode confidently into town - only to quicly realize that we'd gotten off the bus too soon and were not in Montezuma. We watched the bus continue on without us and hailed another cab. Twenty more billed-by-the-kilometre minutes later, and we finally arrived. Luckily Montezuma's been a great place with varied cuisine, natural attractions within walking distance, good surf, and a fun night life. We've enjoyed our time here, which was made even sweeter by the (typical) tribultations we endured to get here.