'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.