And into the jungle

Mundo and Paolo had already come up with a pretty full plan for the next day. They both thought I should hike towards the waterfall at the foothills of the mountains that was the source for the pueblos drinking water.

I looked at them in my typical clueless gringo face and asked if my sandals, shorts and sleeveless shirt were appropriate attire. They returned my question with a gaze I've come to recognize..."Ah, silly clueless gringo." No the trail was easy they said, but I probably wanted something more than shorts and sandals. But not to worry they had some boots I could borrow. What can I say, I came here prepared for a couple leisurely days of lounging around at the beach.

I knew things were going to be a little different than lounging at the beach when I started asking everyone else if they were coming to see the waterful with us? No unlike the trip to the beach, this was just going to be Paolo and myself.

Well we started our little trek by crossing the bridge into the mainland. The waterfall I was told was just a little jaunt through the forest to the foothills at the base of the mountains. After about 5 minutes I was keenly aware that it was a good idea to have changed out of the shorts and sandals I was wearing.

We crossed the first of many muddy trails through the jungle. Paolo took special pride in pointing out the various types of birds and fruit bearing trees. Every description was accompanied by his own little bit of commentary, "these coconuts are much more delicious than the cocounuts you can buy in Panama, our coconuts are the best!"

Every tree we passed had a similar story. How all of these fruits were delicious and essentially free here, and then he would ask me what they cost in the US and just shake his head. "Here everything is gratis!" As we ventured further into the forest Paolo told me we were going to the families farm.

The Kuna have an interesting set of laws around property rights. There is no concept of owning land in the Kuna culture, but one can own trees and the fruits that these trees bear. Unfortunately these traditions are being disrespected more frequently, so I hear.

The farm was really just a group of trees in one area of the jungle. But no one would bother to venture all the way out here without gathering some fruits to bring home, so we took some time and picked some randomly delicious fruits, who's name I still don't comprehend. They were nothing I've ever eaten before but they were delicious and really really juicy. I thought so and so aparently did all the mosquitos.

We continued on the meandering trail, it was really easy to follow, we just used the 1/2 buried pipe leading to the village as our guide. But of course we made a stop for fresh coconut. It was kinda cool to see Paolo's machete in action. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of a pissed off Kuna.

After a while our conversation trailed off as well. We were seeing the same trees and animals, and we were both hot, sweaty and thoroughly bitten from hiking through the rain forest. But I could hear that waterfall just off in the distance, and soon enough we came to our destination. It was indeed a very nice waterfall, which opened up in a nice wading pool. But sometimes I think the journey is far more important than the destination.

You might call it paradise

After breakfast Paolo took me for a walk around the pueblo to show me around. He showed me the dock where the Colombian merchant ships come returning from their trips to Colon to load up on coconuts. They buy them here for $0.12 a piece and then they go to Venezuela and sell them for $0.25. It was the first of many times I'd hear this compaint.

Paolo took me through the pueblo, just a 5 minute walk from end to end. Playon Chico is the 3rd largest of the Kuna pueblos, and Paolo told me there were 3,000 Kuna living here, although I only saw about 1,500. But he was most proud of the fact that the pueblo now had two theatres. One with a DVD player and a collection of movies and the other with a DirectTV reciever. "We can go to the movies on friday night", he told me excitedly "but it costs $0.25"

Then we walked over to the local school where Paolo worked. "Things are good here" he told me, "but we don't have enough books in our library, and we need a computer." I suppose that even in paradise people are lacking for things they need.

Afterwards I met "las reinas" as Paolo liked to refer to them. A few of his lady friends. Turns out one of them new of where we could get an outboard motor to attach to the families dug-out canoe. This was great news! The trip out to the beautiful beach island would go from 1 hour each way to just a few minutes. We made plans to meet up after lunch, promptly at 3.

For a group of people without much to do or jobs to speak of, the Kuna seem strangely obsessed with time. There is a time for everything, and one musn't be late. And everyone takes great pride in their timepieces. Ok, whatever, I can live with that. Mundo had procured a couple red-snappers for lunch. I'm really starting to enjoy the taste of eating a whole fish right out of the frying pan.

After the obligatory nap in the hammock it was time to head out to the docks and meet up with "las reinas." It was just a little bit of work to attach the motor to the canoe, and then getting the thing started was another adventure. But we had plenty of gasoline and we were ready to go!

Everyone loves a day at the beach and the Kuna seem to be no exception. Sure they might complain about the hardships of life but they do actually realize they live in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

We gathered together in the canoe and headed out. We passed beautiful tropical island after beautiful tropical island, before finally setting sights on a pristine beach. All that was going through my head was the theme song from Gilligan's Island. After we reached shore, Paolo pointed me towards the corals and I was off.

I'd lugged my snorkeling gear back and forth across two continents for two months now without getting a chance to use it. It was wonderful to let it finally taste salt-water again. Not the best reefs I've ever scene, but when I think about the totality of the experience it's hard to imagine a better scene.

After a short excursion I rejoined the rest of the crew. They were playing some traditional Kuna games on the beach. I didn't really understand what I was supposed to do or when, and everything really just seemed like some variation of jumping on my back and laughing, but I have to admit it was fun.

As the sun began to set we gathered our things and headed back to the pueblo. Mundo was going to look for lobster tonight and after all, one must not be late for dinner.

The Kuna Yana

The flight to Mamitupu left at the horrendously early time of 6:00 AM. Am I the only person in the world who actually enjoys sleeping? Why is travelling synonomous with waking up really really early? Whatever, I wasn't happy about it but I wasn't going to let it keep me from taking this trip either.

So I made it to the airport slightly before 5. And by 6:30 we were starting to board our little 2-prop, 19 seat, island hopper. I had enough coffee in me by this time that I knew I wasn't going to sleep so I just stared out the window and pondered instead.

But soon enough the plane touched down and I was the first one out on the runway. I had come without making any arrangements in advance and I was really hoping to be able to find a cheap place to stay without too much trouble.

I wandered around for just a couple minutes to check out the scene and it was confusing. We had touched down outside of Playon Chico, but the landing strip and a few other building were located on the mainland, and there was a bridge to the pueblo. I soon learned this was because the mainland was not part of Kuna Yana (aka the Land of the Kuna aka the San Blas Islands) and was open to anyone allowed to enter Panama. But in order to enter the pueblo of Playon Chico one needed permission from the Kuna Lana. So the landing strip, school, hospital and Mormon church were all on the mainland. And not much else.

Well the first Kuna I talked to after I stepped off the plane told me about his hotel that only cost $150 a night. Ouch. A little out of my price range, "no tengo mucho plata" I explained. Well he sent me over to another guy with a hotel who started out at $70, but then came down to $50 a night. Still more than I wanted to spend.

The Kuna have some sort of communication network, the speed of which puts the internet to shame, by which all the pertinent information of the day is diseminated to exactly who needs to know it. Within a few minutes everyone knew there was a cheap gringo on the island looking for a place to stay. It was then that I met Mundo.

Mundo works at the local Post Office. He's one of the few Kuna that have an actual "job" with a regular paycheck and time at which he's required to show up. He was waiting at the airstrip, as he does everyday, for the mail to come in. After talking for a few minutes Mundo offered to put me up in his house for the next two days for $25 a night. Sold!

House might be too generous a term for where Mundo and his family lived. Hut is probably the best term I can come up with, it did have a thatched roof after all. But they were fairly well off by Kuna standards, you could tell that because they had a concrete floor, quite the luxury. And it turns out there was electricity in the evenings when the pueblo's generator's ran, and running water although only the public bathroom at the edge of the pueblo.

My spanish is passable, but Mundo's son Paolo spoke a little english, so it was decided he would be my tour guide for the next two days. The Kuna are very protective of their land and their heritage. While they seem to appreciate the money tourism brings into their land, they don't want foriegners just wandering off by themselves.

Mundo worked on figuring out breakfast and lunch for me. He had to go see what the local kids had caught today. They told me to relax and in the afternoon they'd work on finding a boat with a motor and we'd head to an island. Excellent!

Random thoughts going through my head as I watch the Panamanian sun-rise out the window of a 19 seat, 2-engine island hopper

I've been struggling with my relationship with God lately...or perhaps my lack of a relationship. For a long time I've proudly considered myself a card-carrying member of the snooty intellectual atheist club. But when I found out my Dad had cancer I prayed. And when I found out my cousin had Hodgkins I prayed. I found comfort in those moments by returning to the religion I was raised in. Maybe it's just that whole Pascal's wager thing, what do you have to lose by believing? I never did like that answer.

Really atheism is just as much a religion as any other. By proclaiming there is no god without any proof of it you're making a leap of faith. I think my whole problem with god's existence has been around the world we live in. It seems like a pretty crappy place. Lots of bad things happen to good people, and bad people get away with murder (and worse). And the idea that a benevelent, all-powerful god would permit this to happen is impossible to comprehend. I can't imagine a master-plan that makes sense of all of this.

Most of this probably just stems from my bitterness at the world. I guess it's obvious to everyone who knows me, assuming there is actually someone out there who knows me. I do a pretty good job of keeping myself hidden. I've got a lot of masks I know how to wear and different personalities I can put on and take off as the need arises. Maybe that serves a purpose, but I actually disremember what the end goal of this is supposed to be.

I have started to notice a certain pathology I have with relationships. I have a pretty good track record of attracting possessive, needy women. And then stroking their hopes until they are emotionally attached. And finally starting the slow process of pulling away and becoming ever more distant. Looking back I see I have repeated this process in every substantial relationship I've ever had. I don't know if that means I should find less possessive women or shouldn't pull away when I become hooked.

But really I'm just having a tough time acknowledging that I'm even thinking about this. This seems like a pretty strange line of analysis coming from a self-avowed commitment-phobe and "bachelor for life". I've actually caught myself saying things like "wow, she'd make a good mother" or "yeah, I could wake up next to her for the rest of my life" lately. That's a little more than out of character for me. Maybe my biological clock is just ticking too, but more than that I think I'm getting a little tired of just running.

Everytime I talk to my Dad he asks me the same thing. "So when are you coming back?" And I always have the same lame reply, "Uh...I dunno, I'm going to (insert random Latin American country here) next." I'm know they're convinced I'm quite insane at this point.

I never really did like "Catcher in the Rye" and I'm not really sure why. It scared me, continues to scare me when I think of what happens. I could see myself as Holden. And I could definately see this world driving me crazy. It wouldn't be that long of a trip.

Off To Paradise

I´d been hearing a lot about the San Blas Islands lately, and I was really digging what I had heard. Aparently they are an archipelego of about 360 tropical islands, 60 of which are inhabited by the Kuna Indians, who still claim their independence even though they were annexed by Panama several years ago. But these days I think the San Blas Islands are most famous for being a site of a reward challenge for the last season of Survivor. Whatever, paradise is paradise, regardless of how it´s been commercialized.

So today I walked into the office of Aeroperlas (the internal-Panamanian airlines) and asked for a ticket to the San Blas islands. The lady behind the coutner asked me what island? I told her I didn´t really care, just find me one that´s beautiful and has an empty seat leaving tomorrow and returning saturday. I hear that once you´re on the island you can take a canoe to other locales.

It was simple as that, well that and forking over $90. So I have my ticket to Mamitupu leaving at the ungodly time of 6:00 AM tomorrow. They only have on flight there a day, I don´t understand why they can´t make it later.

I don´t have a place to stay or any real idea of what I´ll do there, although I imagine lounging on the beach will be high on the agenda. And I hear it´s pretty easy to find a local who´s willing to let you stay in his hut and provide you meals for a few dollars a day. Aparently tourists aren´t allowed to venture out by themselves so you need to hire a guide where ever you want to go, probably a good idea anyway. And I´m convinced my snorkeling gear will finally taste salt-water!

So to anyone who´s trying to get a hold of me, I´ll be away from civilization until early saturday. No phones, no internet, no running water, no electricity. Don´t worry, I´ll tell you all about it when I get back.