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.

Bocas del Toro. Tues March 29.

A day with a difference: 'helping' at a  rural school.

A stormy, overcast day, rain falling in sheets as I set off on my trusty (ancient) bike to meet up with a group of Americans I’d met by chance who had invited me to join them doing volunteer work in a rural school deep in the forest.

An hour later I made it to the tiny wooden hut in a clearing, which housed 14 children aged between 4 and 13, with their teacher, a strong willed woman welding a machete.  OK, everyone in central America carries them to harvest coconuts, but it did seem out of place! I was soaked through, steaming like a kettle in the humid heat inside the dark room.

The volunteers’ goal was to train and sponsor these school children in self sufficiency skills. Safe drinking water is non existent here, sanitation is limited, and the villagers inland and dotted along the coast depend on their own resources, farming, fishing, to survive.

In Panama education is free and in theory compulsory but in rural areas facilities are basic and attendance haphazard. By offering practical skills and resources this charity (Ancon) aims to increase both. These children were mainly Ngobe, the largest indigenous group on the islands.(The most visible are the Kuna Indians with their bright patterned dress, I see them most mornings from my balcony as they pass by).
To be honest, the pupils seemed far less keen on environmental studies than the volunteers, disappearing to play outside as soon as the adult’s backs were turned. I learnt a lot though... I am very ignorant about nature, not even realising the omnipresent coconut was imported by early settlers, which was a tad embarrassing.

Ngobe kids

Kuna Indians who have a settlement near Bocas

By lunchtime I decided that the work was obviously 'worthy'  but not actually achieving much, so rather selfishly I decamped, cycling gingerly back through the sodden water logged , potholed tracks.

The 'no brakes' Caribbean bikes
..owner occupied ones have number plates.
Makes sense, there's no cars here bar the yellow taxis,
the odd delivery lorry and cooperative  shuttle between villages

A birthday phone call home to Richard followed by a quiet afternoon pedalling at leisure. The showers ceased and hazy sunlight drew out the panorama of birds with their musical songs.

This is my last week.
I am simply relaxing with a clear conscience.

Easter Monday. Isla Carenero

The crowds have gone; an eerie quiet has descended on Bocas. Today is not a public holiday, the special Easter market and food stalls disappeared overnight and it is a ghost town again, just a handful of vacationing gringos, long stay surfers and the locals going about their daily business.

Watching the town slowly come to life from my balcony every morning fills me with pleasure, the traditional cafes offering desayano (breakfast), rice and beans, eggs, coffee, the smells waft up to me as the locals head for their regular haunts. Without the weekend visiting crush, I can recognise familiar faces who wave a greeting as they pass.

Another day, another island.  Today the nearest, tiny Isle Carenero, barely inhabited. Ringed by coral its shallow beaches mean surfers cannot land here without getting cut to ribbons on the glass-like reef so it's a tranquil isle. As I walked the track circling the island, via clambering rocky outcrops and wading through muddy jungle swamps, I met only gorgeous butterflies and flamboyant Panamanian birds.

Isla Carenero

The ' common' blue morpho butterfly, so beautiful

Finally I was able to appreciate at least a taster of unique marine life of the archipelago. By standing still in the translucent calm water, the surf breaking far, far out beyond the reef, fish shoals swirled around me. Bright yellow, blue and green fish darted between the floating fronds, an ever changing kaleidoscope of patterns.

The Cove

Fish in the shallows by the coral reef

Then the downside of the end of festivities - finding a water taxi! Since I arrived it's simply been a matter of finding a jetty and waving down a passing boat. Today I stood staring out at an empty sea. Castaway concerns until eventually a boat circled the island scooping up passengers and a few minutes later I was back in Bocas.

I could stay on the quieter islands, yet I'm happy here in the town. It's a (rare) moment in time when I’m comfortable with the chatter of daily life around me. I have had blissful solitude and isolation this trip, now I'm relishing being a part of this small town community with its odd selection of shops, cafes, shacks and coffee bars and cheerful, friendly residents.

Easter Sunday. Bastimentos beast.

Easter Day phone call home, wonderful. Then a memorable morning:  a rare encounter with central America’s  deadly snake, the fer-de-lance.

I was hiking (carefully) on Bastimentos island with a fellow trekker from the hostel when a glimpse of yellow and black shiny patterned skin caught my eye. There it was, right in front of us, slithering beside us along the path half hidden under debris.

My companion, not realising this was a venomous beast, was keen to get her camera out.  Not a good idea.  I made her stand very still until it eventually slid away. Scary few minutes as we made eye contact with the vicious reptile. This snake is notorious, guides warn about its danger, but I didn't ever expect to actually see one and was immensely relieved when it disappeared.

Otherwise, the trek was great, we arrived safely at Wizards Beach for a refreshing rest and picnic. I daren’t swim, the riptides lift me off my feet, so I paddled happily rather then brave the massive waves.
Back by water taxi to attend mass at the tiny cathedral here, because it seemed appropriate to celebrate Easter somehow. There's no chocolate eggs, it's all religious iconography, bright 'Xmas'  lights decorating the town and houses covered in crosses.

Fascinated by the ethnic mix here I’ve done some research...a brief history makes much sense of the current eclectic community

The archipelago was originally inhabited by native Indians, Ngobe-Bugle, Teribe (Nazo), Bokota and Bri Bri whose descendants keep their traditions alive through tourism.

Christopher Columbus visited Bocas Del Toro in 1502 to repair his ships but it was the English not the Spanish who founded Bocas Del Toro in 1826 on Isla Colon.
These wealthy Scottish and English immigrants from Jamaica, San Andreas and Providenci wanted a base to avoid British taxes. With them came thousands of slaves from the Caribbean Islands and they rapidly prospered, turning the area into a banana boomtown.

Sadly, this heyday ended in the 1920s with the demise of commercial banana production. Prosperity gave way to rural poverty. Today only six of the over 100 islands are actually inhabited and the main industry is tourism. Real estate is at an all time low and unlike neighbouring Costa Rica, tourism is also falling. Hotels are up for sale at every corner, derelict bars lurk like ghosts in the shadows.
A shame, I like this crazy shambolic, chaotic place. 

Easter Saturday in Bocas del Toro.

The holiday hoards hit the town around 8 am. One minute I was sitting quietly eating my breakfast fruit loops (I have a mild addiction to the colourings and preservatives, I love this American cereal) on my balcony, staring down on the deserted town, and then people began to steam down the street.

This is one of Panama's most popular vacation spots, buses from Panama City were booked out months ago and there really isn't a room free in the town. As the crowds headed for the water taxis, I headed out of the town the other way, hiring my trusty bike from 'rasta', aka Rastafarian bikes, as before.

I have now mastered the art of cycling backwards to stop as brakes are not an option. I should have tackled it in Costa Rica, rather than postponing the inevitable. It was more a mind 'thing' than physical: the act is easy, remembering to do it was the hard part. I m continually fascinated by the brains ability to adapt so rapidly when necessary, transforming the seemingly impossible into simply natural.
Cycling around the cove and around the headland to the surfer’s beach of Playa Bluff was, despite my protesting muscles, the best way to avoid the visiting deluge who were mainly aiming for the family friendly rolling sands of Bastimento island.

The surfers were out in force, awe inspiring to watch given the towering exceptionally high spring waves, otherwise it was just me and a handful of fellow bikers pedalling along the stony track by the coastline, but those like minded souls included my English cinema acquaintance from Brighton and the American couple I'd walked to red frog beach with on Thursday so, by chance, I had enjoyable company for the ride.

Along the way I stopped in at the Centre for Tropical Island Biodiversity Studies for an educative hour on the fascinating flora, fauna and wildlife of these islands. Much of it is marine related, I need to dive or snorkel to appreciate it but as I don't dive and I'm not a natural swimmer I admired the superb photos on show instead.

Stilt houses

There are gorgeous iridescent butterflies around and myriad rainbow coloured birds, still plenty to see, although I miss the monkeys. I slept to the sound of howler monkey cries for weeks and find it weird not to hear them now. And I miss 'my' sloth and her baby from Cahuita, keeping guard over my cabin. Bocas town is fun though, I like the buzz, I am energised by its fun atmosphere. It reminds me of a central America version of Lewes, the coffee bars in converted camper vans, the holistic centres, the organic delicatessen, the artists studios, I feel relaxed and ' at home' here.

Coffee bar..my favourite one

Bocas town brewery menu

This evening, another first. I sat cross-legged on the airport landing strip, 700 metres from my hotel in the centre of town, to watch the local football match.

The airfield doubles as a sports ground. When the 6 pm flight approached the impromptu bleachers were lifted to the side until it passed (very close) over our heads, and then, seats restored, the game carried on. Luckily there are only two flights a day. This trip has produced some very bizarre experiences.

Good Friday on a tropical island. March 24.

My first Good Friday spent on a tropical island. Not my normal style but I can recommend it! I rented a bike and cycled for hours, watching the surfers catch the high swell, sitting drinking fresh fruit smoothies under a palm tree, bumping along sandy dirt tracks through rainforest clad volcano slopes gazing down into deep valleys alive with colour.

A salutory lesson that life can change in a second: by chance I stumbled across a dramatic situation, lifeguards struggling to rescue  a surfer who d got into deep trouble, swept  way , way out to sea,. Crowds gathered and prayed together while relay teams of emergency services and the marine lifeboat worked tirelessly until finally they got him to shore safely, when we all burst into spontaneously applause.

This Catholic community held their small scale Semana Santa procession at dusk. Hundreds gathered outside the church here in Bocas town to light torches, sing and walk the streets worshipping at impromptu stations of the cross intricately decorated in houses along the route. I walked with them, old and young together in celebration. I may not share their faith but I share their love and respect for life.

Town ready for procession..these are stations of the cross on houses along the route

Aother house station of the cross

The procession

Bigger cities have massive shows for Semana Santa, this was tiny by comparison but it felt special, intimate, joyous. The town bars were dark as the sale of alcohol is banned during Semana Santa (much to the confusion of some tourists). Hotels are unofficially exempt but most are keeping the faith and staying ' dry'.

Bocas , as all of Panama is a melting pot of ethnic races. My English sensibility still struggles with the casual use of terms like ' Latino, chino, nativo, Indian' and the like used purely as descriptive terms. I am simply 'engeesh' rather than gringo, which I am hoping is a complement! A wide variety of backgrounds but everyone lives, works and worship alongside one another here in this awesome archipelago.

Bocas del Toro. Day 1 . Unexpectedly adventurous.

So...it took me a day to work out Panama is an hour ahead of Costa Rica.  Time isn't a factor unless there's a bus to catch and, in my defence, the sunset here is an hour later  hence why I simply didn't realise yesterday. I put my instinctive sense that the day was a long one down to the journey....

Today proved to be unexpectedly adventurous, a great boost to my morale. Once I discovered it was 8 am and not 7 am I threw a few beach bits into the rucksack and set off to explore the islands.  There are tours but I am ' tour-ed out' so headed to the cheap co operative water taxis. Three dollars, ten minutes of ouch inducing ride (the swell is high, great for surfers but not such fun on a boat) and I arrived at Bastimento.
My intention was to walk through the village over the island to wizard’s beach, as recommended by fellow travellers. Nervously striding out alone along the forest path I was watching over my shoulder constantly until I made it down to this quiet surfing beach where I sat with a friendly American couple chatting and sharing biscuits.

Their plan was to walk on to the most well known beach, "red frog", a national park around the island headland and they invited me to join them. We divided up any valuables into our underwear as the track is a common area for petty crime, so it wasn't me being unduly cautious, and set off into the dense jungle.
The track was well concealed, especially after recent storms. An hour of sinking into mud, climbing over rocks, ducking under trees, slipping down vine covered slopes, and we made it! With our assets intact :) and my self confidence restored.

Red frog beach is a long sandy stretch lined with restaurants. We parted amicably as they went for lunch while I, always a cheapskate, found the local BBQ stall hidden behind them and had a fabulous baked potato, I was famished, it tasted amazing!

Red Frog Beach

Walking back to find a water taxi I actually saw one of the minute red frogs the island is named after. It is truly tiny, I would never have seen it without following the people with cameras clustered around the tree and even then I needed my glasses.

Red Frog

I’m regaining my equilibrium now, its been a fun day in good company. I  feel 'at home' in Bocas town even though it's busier here  than the islands  Tonight I found the small  art house cinema, tucked in a backstreet, and met another English woman; a rare encounter in itself but even better,  a social worker who lives in Brighton. We passed a pleasant hour bonding until the film started (The Danish Girl...the system works in that the first person who turns up picks the film, what a great idea).

I went back to my hotel rather than stay, my eyes are closing so I’d just sleep through the film. Plus, I am still relishing the novelty of television and air conditioning. Its a rare expense, a guest house not a hostel, but omg it's blissfully relaxing after today's energetic excursion to have a cool room and easy entertainment.

Panama wed march 23

Fond farewell to Costa Rica, the airport taxi driver only charged me half fare when he heard about the robbery so I would leave with positive thoughts of his country folk, bless him. So I did!
Nearly didn't leave at the airport when I saw the 'plane'. A ten seater, (no bathroom) the pilot joined us in the bus out from the terminal to the field where it was strapped down and shook our hands before asking us to join in prayer. So I did!

Ear protectors on, we trundled off, hovering just above the tree line. Nature Air very apt name, nearest I’ve come to a canopy walk this trip, I was at eye level with the birds, honestly. Not exactly a smooth ride either.

When we finally descended everyone ignored the immigration booth and made a dash for the bathroom.
Just as well as the chap 'manning' the booth had taken lessons from the US, talk about painstakingly slow.

Eventually the 7 of us emerged into a deserted ghost town, it being the noon downtime. No chance of a taxi. I started to lug my bag up the main Street feeling like I'd landed on the set of a Western when a kind local couple came to help. Refusing my offer of a tip they took me to the door of this hostel before leaving with smiles and waves.

An hour later I was finally ensconced in an upmarket (by my standards) room, with a/c and a TV.  Original room was a cupboard, but when I burst into tears, inadvertently, my emotions are still raw, the lovely staff quickly found me an upstairs suite with a little balcony. Great welcome to Panama.

Bocas town is an eclectic colourful collection of clapboard houses, restaurants, town beach and docks for the neighbouring islands. It is peak season, a popular holiday spot for Panamanian and Costa Rican as well as travellers, but my first impression is that I like it. It's fun to be in a town rather than a village and there's a cheerful, hippy style feel. Yoga retreats, organic delicatessen, spa shops (I should have my eyebrows done..I look like a monkey) alongside the usual suspects of markets, groceries, cafes, bars. The town is on a spur surrounded by water so there's a relative cool breeze, a real relief after the rainforest humidity.

Bocas

This is my base for the Easter week, so hopefully my first impressions aren't wrong! Islands to visit, hikes to do, bikes to rent, so keeping occupied isn’t an issue and I feel much more like my previous robbery self now. The Brussels bombs have put things into perspective. Those poor people...the world has gone mad. I genuinely appreciate how lucky I am to be safe and sound in this beautiful place.

Costa Rica footnote. Tues march 22

It's 'Semana Santa' at Easter, my apologies to Catholics everywhere for inadvertently rechristening the most important festival in Latin America. Celebrations already under way, processions around the streets of San Jose , where I m stopping the night. Religious icons held aloft as worshippers pray and sing their way between churches.

I am wending my way towards Panama so staying enroute in a delightful hostel in the university area of San Pedro. The shuttle from Cahuita deftly avoided the mountain landslides due to the recent rain and we arrived by early afternoon so I had time to explore.

This huge westernised city is a culture shock after sleepy Cahuita. San Jose is a wealthy vibrant place, yes, with a seamier side, like any city, but this trendy neighbourhood, full of coffee bars and bookshops, is safe to walk around and I enjoyed absorbing the buzz and youthful cosmopolitan vibe.

I’m fighting flashbacks from the robbery but 'getting there', wearing my angry bruises like a badge of honour, an initiation, a rite of passage. Although physically fine, psychologically I have struggled with this deliberate act of violence.  My run in with the cow horn in India was a random accident but this was personal, harder to come to terms with.

But one bad act brings out many good acts in response. When I explain my bruises to curious questioners I am met with universal kindness and genuine caring support. Costa Rica depends on tourism and are rightly proud of their beautiful country. People have gone out of their way to comfort me, a total stranger in the supermarket have me a hug.

So I will concentrate on the high points of Costa Rica: the parade of wildlife which exceeded my expectations, the lush green countryside, the cool waterways alive with life, the gentle villagers, the early morning canoe rides into the jungle, the crashing Caribbean surf. I  shall miss the sloth outside my cabin, who opened one eye every morning and the other every evening,  the flamboyant display of birds and butterflies, the monkeys howling through the night, I have so many positive memories of this spectacular country and that's the way I will remember it.

Cahuita. Monday blues.

Still very shaken, very sad and very angry. Tempted to go home! Objectively I know this will be a mistake. One negative experience must not sour a brilliant adventure..

Costa Rica is gorgeous country. Walking this morning through the park I saw my first racoons, bigger than I expected, with their white rimmed eyes. Plus agoutis, iguanas, the poisonous green dart frog, and my friend the local sloth.

Agouti

Iguana

Tanagers.. Common but so beautiful

Poisonous green dart frog

With hindsight my habit of hiking alone off the beaten track may have made yesterday's robbing an ' accident' waiting to happen. I inherently trust people are good but inevitably some are not. I was going to cross their path eventually. I was very, very lucky.

So, despite having the ' blues' I am concentrating on the positive, watching the vivid red birds fluttering through the palms by my cabin, the squirrel munching his lunch on my step, the monkeys high in the sky above me. Unique, phenomenal wildlife, spectacular scenery and fabulous people. I will not let one moment rob me of these precious memories.

Tomorrow I head to Panama, my final destination before home.
Easter is approaching and I am looking forward to celebrating Semanta Santa, the Catholic festival.

'Keep calm and carry on' is my motto for today...

Cahuita. Sunday. A day to count my blessings.

And so...for the first time ever during my travels, I have been mugged and robbed.
My wrist is sore where I was grappled from behind, my camera is gone as is my wallet as my backpack was stolen.
But fortunately I am safe and sound. My passport, my cards and most of my money is here in the cabin. It could have been much much worse in so many ways.
And despite the awful experience my abiding memories will be of the kindness of so many people.

It happened on a stretch of beach outside the main tourist area which is popular with locals and so on a Sunday was full of happy families. It seemed safe enough. I had walked contently for miles without a care in the world until suddenly a man jumped out of the coconut tree lining the sand and seized my arms.
It was the look in his eyes which will haunt me. I now know crack addiction is common and suspect this was it. I was terrified and instinctively swung my bag of my shoulder towards him.

Amazingly, it worked, he let me go, snatched it up and disappeared.
My screams drew people flocking to my aid. I was given water, made a bed of leaves to sit on, the police were called, women cuddled me and children ran to give me crackers and sweets and stroked my head.

Alas, my clothes were in my bag.  Feeling rather naked clad only in my bikini we waited an hour or so for the police ( fast by Costa Rica standards) who then got their pick up stuck in the sand.  Even I could appreciate this was farcical.

So for another 30 minutes various methods of extraction were tried, including tow ropes, wooden planks, leaves under the wheels, until eventually an ambulance appeared to take me to the clinic. That's the process (although they are supposed to arrive together) and I persuaded them to take me back to Cabinas Tito instead as I figured I didn't need a hospital, I needed to feel safe

The family here were wonderful, bringing me coconut water, hugging me, telling me not to worry about the key (obviously that had gone too.). They also negotiated with the tourist police station, a different division, to come out and write my report for insurance, as Cahuita police are notorious for ineptitude. As witnessed with the vehicle fiasco....

I have finally stopped crying, the shock kicked in and I sobbed for hours. But I know I was incredibly lucky. I am counting my blessings. I have lost only possessions, my photos were backed up, and I am not hurt.  I have much to be grateful for.

I sat this evening talking to Tito’s mother. We bonded about women's issues using broken spanglish and she told me Tito is out with the townsfolk looking for the perpetrator. I don't hold out much hope but I appreciate the gesture.

Crime in Costa Rica is on the rise, the wealthy tourists draw those with nothing. I hope whoever gets my shorts and my t shirt likes them! I am very sad about my camera. Also sad about my make up bag because it had my pretty tin Annie have me before I left, which had sentimental value.

But I am determined to count my blessings and be positive. Despite feeling sore, miserable , sunburnt after hours sitting on a beach in my bikini minus my clothes and suncream, and desperately homesick I am fine, which is all that matters in the end. Tomorrow is another day.

Cahuita. A strange Saturday.

A strange day full of odd moments, from horrid to special.
The bad bits:
Nasty encounters whilst on an early morning hike through the national park.

1. My foot made contact with a very large alligator like species, hidden under loose sand on the trail.
I am not sure who moved quickest, him or me.
I’m going with it was only a harmless Cayman for peace of mind. Funnily enough there wasn't time to take a picture!

2. My face made contact with an enormous spider’s web, plus spider. Instinctively hitting it away I hit myself in the face with my camera which was on my wrist strap. Black eye but no spider bite.
No picture of that either!

Otherwise, despite the rain showers, the first for days, a great, if long, trek. By setting out soon after sunrise I finished the whole trail and back (around 12 km) surrounded by the rich exotic jungle life. Vivid butterflies, irridesecent birds, my best sighting yet of the gorgeous yellow toucan with his splendid beak. monkeys, etc . Fascinating variety of crabs underfoot -  all shapes and sizes.

Crabs everywhere

Plus the above two nasties. Glad I was wearing full covering, despite the heat, there are a lot of lurking dangers in the forest Humidity is the killer. I was wetter when the rain stopped, drenched in sweat in minutes.
By the time I stumbled exhausted out of the national park and into my cabin I was shattered. Unusually I’d walked in mostly solitude, so hadn't spoken to anyone all day.

Creeks

Sitting outside with a cuppa (yes, I am carrying a travel kettle, it's my most priced possession, I’d be lost without it) I was feeling rather old, homesick and lonely when a hummingbird cane to join me.

That's the special moment: these tiny things are so beautiful, it lifted my spirits and made me cry at the same time.
Weekends are harder alone as families are everywhere. Central America is devoutly Catholic and large families are the norm. As I walked back from my beach stroll tonight the townsfolk were gathering in groups for BBQs on the sand. But everyone is friendly, several women waved me over to join in with their picnic, but my limited Spanish makes it difficult. People are very kind.
Like Tortuguero, everyone knows everyone else here and as there I notice a subtle but distinct change in their attitude towards me when I become a familiar face. Now I am not a tourist, I am "English lady" and I value their acceptance. It makes me feel I am not so alone after all.

Cahuita Friday March 18th

In a bid to ensure different muscles hurt today I rented a bike.  The most expensive so far and the most ancient. I turned down the no brakes ( 'just pedal backwards madam') in favour of brakes but a dodgy saddle which tipped me off whenever the dips got too deep, i.e. frequently. After these tracks the South Downs Way will be a doddle.

No brakes, no gears, not cheap...but fun!

Still, it was fun, I was able to venture through the local villages, avoid the coati/pizote (a cross between the possum and racoon to my eyes) which dart around determined to be run over, spot the sloths and the squirrels, the flamboyant red parrots and fluorescent butterflies.

My 'I ve been cycling all day on dirt tracks with a hat on, so my hair is flat and I look knackered' look...

Other wildlife encounters:
1. The stupendous sight of thousands of blue black Colombian butterflies streaming down river every evening migrating to their homeland. Indigo ribbons weaving patterns in the twilight. A nightly dance performance of a million fluttering wings.

2. A less amazing sight: the bold, brash species of the American ' spring breaker'. These young adults hunt in packs, emit loud shrieks and eliminate everything in their path. Sadly this is not a rare sighting. If only.  There are so many groups of tourists here, I can't believe it.
Costa Rica’s massive tourism industry has come as a shock, especially after Guatemala and Nicaragua where it barely exists. Here the infrastructure of this rich, westernised country is built around vacationing. Thousands flock here, mainly from USA and Canada, and I m still adjusting to the sheer scale of this human invasion.

The resulting price leap in goods and services means locals are struggling to afford the cost of living, (so am I!). The family who run this Cabinas (collection of huts) tell me they depend on growing their own fruit and veg as shop prices are exorbitant. Given these huts aren't cheap and they are not poor by Costa Rican standards, it's a measure of how high the cost of living is here.

But thanks to this booming tourism business the standards of hospitality are well honed, unlike the rest of Central America. The upmarket huts are cleaned daily and menus etc are multi lingual. Still no air con but a better class of fan and hot water in the showers. There is more (ish) English speakers, thanks to the high volume of USA visitors. But. ..looking back the idea that I thought Nicaragua's San Juan del Sur was touristy seems ludicrous compared to Costa Rica, which offers itself up as a giant theme park  for wealthy Americans.

Upmarket Costa Rica cabin

Local gym!

Natural pools safe to swim in..

Pros and cons of solo travel:
Pros: I can avoid the hoards and appreciate the glorious scenery and animals. It is without doubt a spectacular country with incredible wildlife.
Cons: unlike Nicaragua and Guatemala, ironically I am finding getting around harder because there is little independent shuttle services as most travellers are on a tour and the locals don't travel long distances.

This north coast with its rainforest and Caribbean sea is a wonderful unique place which I cannot fail to love. I crave to travel deep into the jungle as Colin did and be completely immersed in nature. But I am a coward. Last night I stepped on a frog in my cabin and nearly had a heart attack. I know my limits and I’m better staying in four walls and a roof, even if they have holes!