I'm not sure what the word is en Espanol for "grueling", but that's the best one to describe the past 49+ horas para mi.

It
might not have been so rough had I slept before leaving, but I hit the
plane in PDX after being up for a 24hour day + a half (nope, my math's
not bueno enough to figure it out). I've never been on a flight that
was so chatty, I guess Friday evening flights to Vegas (on Halloween,
no less) are filled with talkative people. I got a couple hours of
horrible "sleep".

You know that kind of sleep where, say you're sleeping and someone
is mowing the grass outside, so you dream about mowing the grass? Or
the TV is on, and you dream that you're Zorro?

Yeah…I was
dreaming I worked in a bakery in at the Niketel campus, sewing computer
chips for prima-donna athletes while my sister with cankles yapped
about her dog's bowel problems to what was apparently a gaggle of
homosexual co-workers.

Fun times – I'd have much prefered Zorro, the swashbuckling
landscaper (throw a green jersey on him and voila, it's Brett Favre!).

Anyway, then I had a 4 hour layover in Vegas. Sure sign the economy is not at its peak: there was nobody in the Vegas airport.

After a red-eye to Houston and an uneventful couple of hours there, I was on my way south.

But
then an unscheduled raincloud decided to show up over Panama City (too
many cranes interferring with HAARP, apparently). So after an hour of
circling, the pilots decided running out of gas over the slimy bay was
probably as bad an idea as hurtling nosefirst onto a short runway in a
torrential downpour, so we bopped on over to the old Hammond Air Force
Base. Honestly it was pretty cool, with the minor exception of making a
sold-out flight 3 hours longer.

The base appeared, um, deserted. But the buildings were exactly
what you'd think of when you think of mid 20th century Panama – they
had some interesting ideas of "architecture" back in the day.

Of
course, from a stationary position looking through a rain-streaked
window the size of a pie-pan, that was about all I was able to deduce
about the buildings, considering they were a few football-fields away.
So I watched TV instead. I know, huh? Me watching TV.

There's just something about the in-flight entertainment though.
It's an odd combination – the hottest TV shows from the Bill Clinton
era, and the TV shows of today that didn't quite make it to their 4th
episode.

Who knew Chris Rock narrates a sitcom about his supposed childhood
that gleefully cracks racial jokes and irreverently mocks Kwanza and
Sarah Palin? You do, now!

The story is just getting good, though. We're about 24 hours into it when I land in PTY.

Deciding to be somewhat adventurous and having 24 hours before I
was to check into mi casa para Noviembre (see you get to learn hablar
Espanol right along with me), I thought I'd see some of the country I
hadn't seen previously, and take a bus.

First of all, despite being neighbors, Panama and Costa Rica do not
have the same idea of what constitutes an "autobus" (pronounced
auto-boos, which makes it way more fun to say). In CR, where the roads
are barely as wide as your driveway and probably not as paved, they
have those sleek, tinted-window coaches, kind of like a rock-star tour
bus, only with seats for 60 and minus all the rock-star glam. So, ok,
just a really crowded tinted bus. But whatever.

In PA, it's very different. Because you see, the US military did a
heckuva job back in the day building the roads that crisscross the
country (I bet you didn't realize that the Panama canal runs North /
South, either, eh?), so unlike in CR where the max speed limit is like
"velocidad de vaca" (speed of cow), in Panama they really have full-on
highways.

Which explains why their autobuses are 1980's ghetto school busses
that look like they were painted by reindeer with multi-colored antlers
who just couldn't quite keep the beat right with the dubbed-en-espanol
FittyCent they were bobbing to. Very religious reindeer though. They
loooove them some Jesus. And some Mary. Both lily-white, ironically.

And when I say school busses, I'm talking the big yellow bus kind
with the seats that stick to sweaty backs like a giant green leech.

Luckily
for me (or maybe unluckily), there were no busses to Bocas del
Toro…for 5 days. No explanation, just, no busses. 5,000 people
waiting in line at the terminal de autocrapolas, but none of them going
to Bocas.

I picked a great weekend to come, something about a national
holiday, independence from Colombia I think (which explains perfectly
why an hombre came up to me in Bocas this evening and said "hey mon,
you need anything? I've got some good crack, mon." "No, amigo, no me
gusta crack." "ah, mon, it's good sheet mon, I do it every night."). So
it's kind of like the US' 4th of July weekend, I guess. (Does that mean
that every lago in Panama will be surrounded the next few days by
locals with mullets and cut-off Ricky Martin t-shirts getting plastered
on Imperial cerveza?)

Anyway, there I was at the terminal de autobuses and the evening is
fast approaching and I decide to see if I can catch a flight to BdT,
thinking there might be a 6pm one. So I flag down a taxi. It's pretty
easy, actually. 90% of people who own cars are certified taxi drivers,
apparently. They're also either clueless about the domestic flights in
their country (of which there are like 3), or the guy I got has no
conscience.

Because he assured me that I had to go back to Tocumen, which is
the international airport some twenty bucks away. The reality was that
all domestic flights depart from the Allbrook airport, which is just a
runway out back behind the terminal de autobusses. Not literally, but
pretty much.

Two things I learned yesterday about taxis in Panama City: they
blame the traffic on "mucho lluvio" (much rain), even though mucho
traffico has been the bane of the city's newfound growth spurt the past
several years (think the worst things you've ever heard about NYC
traffic, only if there were no lanes or stoplights). The other thing I
learned is that it's best to get a taxi that is small, rather than a
pickup or van, and ask the driver how many anos (years) he's been
driving. The longer he's been behind the wheel, the more certifiably
insane he'll be, but the quicker you'll get there! I've only
rally-car'd in video games until yesterday, but now I can say I rode
shotgun on the fastest trip ever recorded through Panama City during
national holiday rush hour. Or any rush hour, probably.

Here's how bad it was – there was a guy I shared the cab with from
NYC, in his 20's probably, seemed like an adventurous guy from the
details of his trip. He was ashen and gripping the seat. He very
nervously laughed at my preposterous suggestion that traffic in New
York was bad like this, right? I think I saw his head nod no. It was
hard to tell though considering we both looked like bobbleheads.

Anyway, so I get to the Tocumen airport and, nope, they don't fly
to BdT. That would be the otro aeropuerto. "Where's that?" They point
to a map. "Oh, that looks like it's RIGHT WHERE I JUST WAS! "Si senior."

Ugh. Ok, so now I've wasted 2 cab fares and a good deal of time –
keep in mind I'm still going on like a couple hours of crappy sleep in
the last 48 – and I now have to make totally new plans for the evening
and hope I can catch a flight the next day, without
a reservation.

Now before you fault me for poor planning, keep in mind that my planning consisted of knowing there were
flights, but choosing the bus route, of which there was supposed to one
about the time I got into town. (Ok, smart guy, you're right, an
overnight bus wouldn't have afforded much of a view of the countryside,
granted. But I chose that route before happening on the information
that filled me in on the little "overnight trip" fact. And I didn't see
a need to change my plan, so as not to be double-minded. I wish I had!)

Anyway, so I'm told some hotel options near the Allbrook airport,
and I go out to catch a cab. Mi espanol must have failed me this time
because I was soon standing there as 3 airport taxi guys cracked jokes
and pointed at me laughing hysterically, whilst discussing my "ingles"
issues with a French guy I was about to share the cab with.

(Side note on that little piece of karma – yes, I'm supposed to be
in Nepal with a group of French hydrospeeders. I didn't go for several
reasons, which are my reasons and good reasons, and so I changed my
destination to down here, since I was moving down here for the winter
as soon as I would have returned from Nepal anyway. But the thought
definitely crossed my mind as Mr. Frenchie smirked and discussed the
funny guy from Estados Unidos with the taxi peeps.)

Anyway, I was saved from a long silent (well, listening-only) taxi
ride by a pretty girl who sidled up to me during the apparently
hilarious american freak show and asked me, "hable ingles?" (do you
speak english?). From her accent and appearance I guessed she was from
Venezuela or Argentina. She was from the Czech Republic. I was close.

We had an interesting talk as we both share a love of travel and
particularly New Zealand. She's on an 8 month trip from Mexico through
the Americas to Brazil – sweet! People who travel meet the coolest
people who travel.

I finally wound up at an inexpensive little hotel (sans internet –
c'mon, what do you think this is, Costa Rica?), took a shower, set my
alarm, and crashed. Well, ok, I admit I watched a few minutes of Texas
/ Texas Tech en TEEEEEELEMUNDO! just for kicks (american football is so
funny with spanish commentators) and then got hooked on Sunset Tan
while channel surfing and had to finish the episode. (That could have
been my brother, we tried to get somebody to bite on the idea in 2003.
Tan Rio's drama was WAAAAAAY juicier than Sunset Tan. Pffft. Please.
Not even close.) Then I crashed.

I got up much earlier than I wanted though, because I had a plane
to catch! Riiiight. But it's lucky I got up at all, thanks
to…DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME! You'd think that phones would be smart
enough to know that "when I'm set to Central America time, there is no
daylight savings, so I don't need to fall back an hour!" But no. You'd
also think that America's best network might have some sort of
relationship with the ample cellular services in central America, but
again, no. Verizon hates the rest of the world. I'm surprised no one
has accused them of being Republicans.

Turns out I could have slept in. The first flight was full. So was the second. Of two. For the day.

But,
thanks to the greatness of Capitalism, there are two domestic airlines
in Panama, and Air Aeropearlas had a flight I could take. In 5 hours.
So…back to the mall!

$1 and change did the trick (which seemed expensive for a 4 minute
ride, but roughly translated "it's Sunday and it's a national holiday,
so you pay more". Nothing about being a gringo? lol), and I was soon
having a breakfast of orange juice / whole milk / apple juice (roughly
translated "sugar fat and sugar") but my only other options at the food
court appeared to be donuts pastries, big macs, or something that
faintly resembled parts of a chicken cooked in motor oil. But don't
think I wasn't tempted.

The flight itself was exciting, too. My boarding pass number was 4.
But when I got on the sold-out plane with the other 13 people, I found,
much to my surprise, that the seating was not in linear order. Row 9
was ahead of Row 2, which was next to Row Blank and ahead of Row 6,
which contained seats # 17 and #19, despite there only being room for
12 seats. So I just sat where I wanted and so did everyone else. There
was no door on the cockpit, if that tells you anything (not about where
I sat, wiseguy, about the size of the plane). Which made flying through
a thunderhead all the more exciting. Did you know that even planes have
windshield wipers? Did you know that raindrops at 250mph don't care?

But, all of that and I must say Bocas del Toro is a pretty sweet
place. Despite having to walk most of the way from the airport to my
humble dutch abode (this spanish school is owned by a dutch fellow,
which I learned from the episode of Friends on the Houston flight is
"nowhere near that made-up place called the Netherlands"), and despite
walking with some 100lbs of baggage on my back (no, I didn't get a new
girlfriend, jeez, have some faith), I was still feeling good enough
upon arriving to take a 40 question espanol test which I did so well
on, I owe the head instructor about 3 months supply of cerveza (beer).
At least they got a good laugh about my answers. "Hahaha you live in
the beer and you drink at the church!"

I will say though that doffing my baggage and taking a walk around
a town buzzing with the energy that comes from a tourist trap, then
watching the sunset from a cool spot in a very 3rd world neighborhood
away from said TT, was a pretty good welcome to the islands. There is a
ton to do and see here, and between having my nose stuffed in books
(Espanol y PADI dive certification), my computer (still being
productive – what, did you think I was a trust-fund baby?), and my
pillow (uh, sleep), I'm planning on relaxing a little bit. Yoga in the
morning, only a buck! =)