Time to go home.

My final day. Last chance to browse the now familiar city streets, purchase souvenirs and try not to panic about clearing US immigration in time to make my connections tomorrow!
The last few months have been an adventure, an experience I will treasure, but I am so looking forward to coming home.

Concluding thoughts.
In reverse order, here's, on reflection, how I’d list the countries I've visited  along this small undiscovered continent:
4. Last but not least:
Costa Rica.
Outright winner in the wildlife stakes.  A daily ringside seat for a Noah's ark parade of marvellous, memorable mammals, birds, butterflies, reptiles....
Yet overall I liked it least because ultimately it's as American as apple pie.
A tourist Mecca and a haven for retired rich, Florida by any other name. Magnificent nature but a cultural void.

3. Panama.
Absorbing country where the majority are 'mestizos; (mixed race), hence a genuine multi cultural, multi social, heterogeneous place. Absorbing to see races historically integrated into a whole, despite persistent tensions.
Bocas was brilliant, Panama City is vibrant, eclectic, surreal architecturally, and of course the Panama canal is a 20th century marvel, awesome to actually see in action. I could have spent longer here with pleasure

2. Nicaragua.
Ometepe was the most beautiful spot of this trip. I felt as if i could touch the thousands of twinkling stars each night.
Unspoilt beautiful tiny little country with a huge heart. Nicaraguan's passion for life was inspirational. Wonderful people, wonderful place.

1. Guatemala.
My favourite, by a county mile.
Gorgeous Guatemala, with its spectacular scenery :the high mountains of Xela, the fiery volcanos of Antigua, the indescribable beauty of Lake Atilan, the awesome , unique Semuc Champney, the river lodge at Finca Tatin, plus bewitching Mayan ruins and cultural traditions still alive in contemporary society.
I feel in love with Guatemala from the day I landed.  Hopefully one day I will return, there's so much more to see.

So that's it for this journey. It's been a voyage of self discovery in more ways than one. An unforgettable opportunity to discover different people and places, encounter diverse situations, good and bad, and to see such incredible wildlife.

I’m truly grateful for the genuine generosity of strangers along the way, for new friends made, and, as always, most of all for the endless support from family and friends in England.
I can't wait to see everyone.
Thank you!

The Panama Canal. Monday April 4th.

Panama s defining landmark, the canal, the man made marine shortcut between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. The 80 km waterway, finally completed in 1914 by the US and handed over to Panama in 1999, and now being expanded, is indeed an engineering marvel. A triumph of human ingenuity.

I had a perfect plan to arise in time to arrive for the morning traffic at the Miraflores visitor centre. I overslept! Never happens in a hostel so never occurred to me to set an alarm. Gulping down my free breakfast, false economy to skip that, I shot out towards the metro when a persistent taxi driver persuaded me to hire him for 10 dollars. A fairish price to save the hour on public transport, time being of the essence as the ships stop between 11 and 3 while the locks are 'reversed'. Thanks to my taxi splurge I made it by 9.30 and gazed in awe for over an hour as enormous container ships and two cruise vessels, tiny by comparison, edged through the three locks.

Queue to enter

Ship entering canal

Ships have inches either side!

This is the Pacific access. There are more locks just within sight at the Atlantic access on this incredibly thin isthmus. I genuinely found the canal absolutely fascinating, even the science exhibition was absorbing and I was riveted by the social history.

Looking down from the visitor centre at Miraflores Locks

No wonder Panama is such a melting pot of ethnicity. Migrants from Europe, India, China, Asia, all flooded here during the construction, first the failed French attempt then the eventually successful American one. There are thousands of official workers listed including 227 with the surname 'Griffith'.

The world is a small place. As I turned a corner in the museum I walked straight into my Shoreham friend from Bocas! Like me she's heading home soon, we shared another pleasant coffee in the shade discussing the complex, often controversial, background to the canal. There's race issues rumbling even today, the American cemetery is immaculately maintained whilst the neighbouring West Indian one is unkempt, focus of a current campaign to rectify matters

The new upgraded locks are due to open in June but are two years behind schedule and I get the impression the date is a fiction. Not least as there is a drought here, the water is so low in the current locks some ships can no longer use it, losing Panama a fortune. The wet season is apparently delayed, informally forecast to be June. So maybe Rasa’s folklore was wrong in Bocas, the rains could still be some weeks away.

I found the local bus easily for the return trip, breaking my journey to shop in the Albrook mall. It feels odd to buy anything but bare essentials. I've only brought food and toiletries for months. Now I’ve taken in the city highlights, souvenir hunting has commenced.

Panama City Sunday April 3. A walk on the beach and a walk in the park.

It's a Sunday. As in England people head enmasse for the shops, the parks or the beach. After church, obviously. It amuses me that throughout this genuinely devout continent shops open as usual on Sunday, even on Easter Sunday. Consumerism and Catholicism exist happily hand in hand.

First to the beach. Well, the causeway which links the four islands at the pacific entrance to the Panama Canal to the mainland, made from rock extracted during the excavations from the Panama Canal, which offers spectacular views of the city skyline, a chance to watch the queuing container ships waiting outside the canal, and a sandy beach on the far island.

Hence why I could watch the container ships entering the canal

Getting there involved a metro ride and then taxi. Despite agreeing the price I get no change from my 10 dollar note (local fare is 3, I had bartered 6). A common, bonding experience for tourists! I resolve to use public transport whenever possible, on principle, because I hate being cheated.

Getting back I did just that.  A bus came into view as I rounded the end of the causeway.  I flagged it down. To my surprise, it stopped, I managed to explain to the driver I wanted the metro, my travel card worked (it's an efficient integrated 'oyster' system) and, for 35 cents, in twenty minutes I was back at the metro and within half an hour back at the hostel for a much needed cold shower.

Amador causeway

Looking back to the city from the causeway

This afternoon turned into an unexpectedly great experience. I ventured out again once the worst of the noon heat passed for the city's 'green lung', the metropolitan national park, in theory ten minutes walk from Albrook mall / metro. Asking directions was hard, no one in the air conditioned mall could understand why I wanted to walk rather than take a taxi until an English speaker caught on and got a taxi for me for the local price, a paltry 2 dollars. Even then I suspect it was probably normally 1 as it was only about half a mile away.

The park was a maze of well marked trails. I’d passed a pleasant hour until a chance meeting with a Danish resident whilst sheltering from a brief rain shower. He persuaded me to hike with him to the mirador. I wasn't keen, I’d already walked the 6 km causeway and two trails, my legs were sore, but Heinrich was right, it was worth the trek.

The view was superb, the entire city laid out, spreading East to West, high hills looming behind us. Below the cranes marked the line of the narrow canal, massive ships slowly edging out to sea. Fantastic panoramic panorama of Panama.

Heinrich was an amusing companion, a financier who transferred his business here from Russia as he hated the cold. He was also a nature lover and thanks to his sharp eyes I saw my first 'nose bear'. Such a gorgeous creature. A group of three sat patiently watching us watching them, waving their long tails, their endearingly pointed bear like faces so close we made eye contact. I’ve seen other coati but not these, this encounter made my day.

The beautiful ' nose bear'

Seriously cute...the nose bear again!

Fortuitously Heinrich lives close to this hostel and offered to walk me back, via park, mall and metro, so I could relax at the mirador, taking time to absorb the warm sunset colours draping the landscape, before we ambled slowly down through the darkening forest, spotting turtles in the lagoon, listening to woodpeckers in the trees, dodging the leafcutter ants in our path.  An hour later I was safely back, waving him goodbye with grateful thanks. His generous company gave me security, people are truly kind, a short walk in the park turned into a great afternoon.

View of the city from the metropolitan national park

Panama City Saturday April 2nd.

Fueled by free breakfast I mustered up enough Spanish to negotiate a different room, as last night I d slept in what was more or less the kitchen cupboard. Now I m in what is more or less the garden shed. Still, this has room to open my luggage, there's free tea and coffee, a flower filled balcony, plus there's familiar faces, folk here I met in Cahuita. Great to see them again, the backpacking community is small and it's not the first time I I've remet people on my journey.

I had to summon up all my reserves of courage to leave the security of the hostel this morning. The fear I thought I pushed away was still lurking, casting a shadow over my natural adventurous self. Facing it full on I headed to the metro rather than take a taxi, which turned out fine. A metro is a metro anywhere in the world and the staff were expert at instructions and directions.

Wealthy neighbours..

My destination, Casa Viejo, the old city now being restored into a trendy upmarket area. This small neighbourhood is a surreal mixture of grand old houses, remodelled as luxury condos or still crumbling facades. Squatters in derelict buildings stared impassively as I and other tourists admired the impressive churches and the historic presidential palace, which towers imposingly over newly planted parks and walkways full of street vendors desperate to sell Panama hats. Kuna women wrapped in the traditional bright embroidered leggings sell everything from ankle bracelets to sofa pillows.

Casa Viejo

Colourful trendy Casa Viejo

View of the ' new city' from the old...

Casa Viejo churches

Panama hats everywhere...

I rejected the upmarket boutiques in favour of the down market discount shops along the route back to the metro. Saturday afternoon in the Panamanian Primark, a taste of Brighton in the 40 degree heat.
A sunset cuppa sharing traveller’s tales on the communal balcony while hummingbirds swooped through the blossoms and turquoise blue parrots patiently waited for our biscuit crumbs.

Panama's version of Primark

I watch the planes high above us; not long now until I m on my way home!

Bocas to Panama Friday April 1st.

A day which began in a sleepy Caribbean island town and ended in the mania of Panama City. Full marks to Air Panama for pulling up on Bocas 'runway' scooping up us 20 passengers and taking off again within ten minutes.  We were waiting in a hut infested with brown crabs so I was keen to get away...
This was a ' proper" plane. It had a bathroom, we were served soft drink and crisps during the hours flight, impressive. The view was spectacular, white cloud peaks parting to expose the narrow green forested strip of Panama framed by the pacific and the Caribbean coast.

Flying low into the city I had a perfect view of the Panama Canal as a massive container ship negotiated the lock. The skyscrapers looming into view were disconcerting in comparison to the archipelago landscape. As I emerged blinking into the sun, cars instead of bikes rushed past me, I felt out of my depth and nervous. Panama City isn't one of the world's safest cities, but the taxi driver was lovely, chatting away in Spanish while we negotiated the traffic, depositing me safely at this welcoming hostel in the central district of El Canjero.

On the hostel balcony in the sunset...tired but ok!

Bye bye Bocas. March 31

The weather is changing, fallen leaves carpet the paths, a brisk wind swirls around the island. Storms are forecast, heralding in the wet season.  As I collected my usual bike from 'rasa’ he sagely informed me the current fine spell will leave with me tomorrow. How he knew I’m going is a mystery but I have learnt there are no secrets in central America.

After yesterday's sun overdose I appreciated the breeze as I revisited my favourite spots. The shady restaurant at Paki Point yet again dished up a delicious fruit smoothie plus an absorbing view of surfers making the most of the high swell. The rain held off as I cycled the coastal track: birds sang, bright butterflies drifted past, the waves crashed onto the golden sands.

My favourite 'watering'spot. Paki point.

Booking Easter in Bocas was a gamble but its paid dividends. This curious, chaotic town has suited me. I have relaxed here, as much as is ever possible when backpacking. Normally it is an adventure, an experience, but no way a holiday. Yet somehow this week has been something similar.

My mugging marks are replaced with bike bruises, a legacy of happy days replacing those from one violent moment (ok, so writing I’d mastered the 'no brakes'  was foolishly optimistic) and, more importantly, I have let go of the fear which haunted me after the robbery. I have got my mojo back, thank you Bocas
I even contemplated a beer today until common sense prevailed. Best to be teetotal travelling solo. A shame, as beer is cheaper than water. Seriously. Even the artesian brewery offerings would cost me less than a coke. Ah well.

I walked the streets tonight saying a sad goodbye to my new ‘amigos'. I will miss these familiar faces, the smiles and waves from locals, the laughing children who race along beside my bike, the surfers who  pass daily enroute to the days best waves. Tomorrow I will sit on my balcony at daybreak eating breakfast for the final time before packing up and moving on, heading to Panama City, the last leg of my journey.

Isla Colon

'Perfect' Polo beach. Wed March 30th.

Polo beach, beloved by locals and famous throughput Panama for it’s outstandingly beauty. I finally discovered it today and it lived up to its reputation. A secluded section of coastline, ringed by a gorgeous coral reef, with warm, opaque, crystal clear shallows teeming with fish.

As it’s only accessible by jungle hike I hadn't found the energy before. It was worth the effort! I have never seen such a beautiful beach and I’ve seen some fantastic ones this trip.

The beach gets its name from “Polo”, a colourful character who left the city years ago for a shack on this isolated shoreline, making a living cooking up coconut rice and beans for passers by. I declined, I am heartily sick of rice and beans!

Getting to Polo was a mission: water taxi to Red Frog beach, walk its 2 km sands, wade, clambering over fallen trees, knee high in surf, to Turtle beach, then the 3 km trek through the jungle. After carefully picking my way through one last rocky headland, the paradise curved bay came into view, turquoise waves lapping gently onto pristine sands.

Polo Beach

Swaying palms offered shady spots where communal bag watching duties were informally taking place. This friendly presence of a handful of fellow vacationers was a boon, I swam happily without worrying, relaxing in the soothing waters.

A lucky break on the way back,  wealthy folk on Bastimento have golf carts to traverse the forest paths, and a kind  American family gave me a lift from Turtle beach to the water taxis. Bless them. Especially as a tropical storm threatened, when the boats stop... For much of the year these islands are inaccessible: I always worry I’ll be stranded. No need to panic, the storm vanished and the evening sunset glowed pink in dusky sky.

Tonight I am tired, mildly sunburnt and with a touch of sunstroke (I was paranoidly careful, the sun caught me out whilst I was swimming, I reckon) yet happy I made it out to appreciate why this outstanding beach is so universally admired.