Day 216: A Kinda Cool Wrong Boat Tour

One of the activities El and Erica had suggested we do while in Bocas was to take a boat cruise around all of the different islands. I liked the idea of exploring the area on water, but I had been on these kinds of tours before, and after getting stuck out at sea with my friend Lauren for hours in Thailand in hopes to catch a glimpse of where Leonardo DiCaprio filmed “The Beach,” I vowed never to do it again. The boat trip was crowded and so touristy it was borderline offensive, not to mention expensive. I did not enjoy myself at all. Plus the tour lasted for what felt like an eternity.

"Never again," I said. Never again.

Erica and El said they knew a boat captain, Batcho, that did private tours around Bocas for $60. It would just be us, and we could decide where we wanted to go, and how long we wanted to stay. That's the kind of boat tour I can get on board with, I thought. Maribeth agreed, so we asked our new friends to set it up for us.

We’d planned to catch the 8am cab from La Coralina to meet Batcho at 8:30am at the boat dock. El and Erica would pack us a cooler with lunch and drinks. It was a great plan for two people who didn’t try to talk to every single person in Bocas the night before.

But since we had done just that and came close to succeeding, the next morning we were moving very slowly.

Very.

Slowly.

As promised, the cab came to get us at 8am and with our cooler, we made it to the dock at 8:30am. It was truly a miracle. We jumped out of the cab, the driver took off and immediately we started looking for Batcho.

There were a lot of people standing at the dock, presumably taking boat trips like ours, so finding Batcho was going to be a challenge. We’d hoped Erica told him what we looked like and that he would approach us.

And we assumed she did, because almost immediately, a guy came up to us and asked us if we were here for the boat cruise.

“Are you Battia?” Maribeth asked.

“I don’t think ‘Battia’ is the right name,” I said to her, but I confess, at that time of the morning, I couldn't remember Batcho's name either.

The guy shook his head yes.

“We’re from La Coralina,” Maribeth continued, and the guy continued nodding and then pointed to the boat for us to board.

He asked us for just $20, not the $60 they had said he would, so I assumed this was just a deposit for the trip, and he'd collect the rest later. But I kept thinking that if that’s what he was going to do, Erica would have told us. I had a bad feeling about him immediately, but I ignored it.
While still sitting on the boat by ourselves, I looked around at the other boats full of passengers and said to Maribeth, “Ugh, I feel so badly for all those people crammed in that boat wearing life jackets.”

Maribeth agreed.

Just as those words came out of my mouth, though, more people started to board our boat and one of the co-captains started handing out orange life jackets for us to put on.

I started to have a freak out, well aware that this was not the boat we were supposed to be on. My realization came too late, however, and our cooler had already been stored on this boat, and the captain had already started untying us from the dock.

I turned to Maribeth and in the whiniest voice I've used since age 12, I said, "This isn't right! This isn't our boat!"

Maribeth sort of shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Well that sucks."

My whining was futile, because it was too late to get off. We had been stolen from Batcho.

Day 216’s thing I’d never done before was to get kidnapped by a renegade boat captain/pirate, and suffer hours of touristy island hopping with strangers.

The first place we cruised to was Dolphin Bay to see (what else?) dolphins. After stressing the entire ride over about this not being the right boat, and about Batcho probably still searching for us at the boat dock, I resolved to pushing through the day and enjoying myself and the dolphins.

Not in a dorky, 12-year old girl kind of way, but I, like a lot of people, am fascinated by dolphins, so to see this many of them in such a short period of time in a relatively small area of the water was pretty amazing. Plus I saw a boat named "Stephanie," and it cheered me up for a little bit. A boat with my name on it: cool.

To see "Stephanie" and about a dozen other boats full of tourists in orange life vests chasing dolphins around the bay: not cool.

After Dolphin Bay and before lunch the captain/kidnapper took us to an area where we could snorkel. I have snorkeled several times in various locations, but after snorkeling here I understand why Panama is known for its scuba diving and snorkeling. The colors were so vivid and the fish were so close. Snorkeling in a Panama in a scene that felt like it was out of a video game: cool.

Snorkeling virtually on top of the other passengers from my boat and being told like a child when it was time to get out of the water: not that cool.

For lunch, our captain/kidnapper took us to a little restaurant near our snorkeling spot that was in a hut on stilts right on the water. Most of the other passengers ordered food, but since we had our own cooler packed with sandwiches, we were already taken care of. Eating a picnic especially prepared for us on a tiki hut with a view of the Bocas bay: cool.

Sitting out in the heat for half an hour after eating our sandwiches waiting for everyone else to finish their meals so we could move on to the next spot: not as cool.

We moved on to the Red Frog Beach refuge for a few hours of uninterrupted beach time. The boat captain/kidnapper dropped us off at a dock and pointed straight ahead in the direction of the beach. At this point in this "boat trip gone wrong," Maribeth and I were so tired and so slap happy, the ten minute walk to the beach along a gravel road (not cool) turned out to be one of the most hilarious walks in the history of my life (super cool). I think I may have wet myself a little (not cool, embarrassing) at some point along the way. The fact that we missed the boat we were supposed to be on, Maribeth's mispronunciation of the boat captain's name, our antics the night before suddenly all became overwhelmingly hilarious. I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time and it was not just cool. It was awesome.

After a handful of wrong turns along the not cool road to the beach we arrived at our destination and we were greeted by four super cute Panamanian kids holding folded palm leaves in their hands.

"Do you want to see a red tree frog?" they all asked us at once.

"Hell yes I do," I responded, enthusiastically. That's pretty cool.

They all unfolded the Palm leaves, each revealing the smallest, brightly colored red frog I'd ever seen. Maribeth and I reached for our cameras and each snapped a photograph.

After we took a picture of the tree frog, all of the kids immediately held out their little hands and asked for $5. Five dollars to take a picture of their tree frogs? For $5 I want my own tree frog as a souvenir, kids! Though I always feel bad for children in any country forced to beg for money, this little stunt was not cool with me at all. I gave them cookies instead.

Maribeth and I found a place under a tree to lay our towels down and try and take a nap. Red Frog Beach was gorgeous and I was glad to have more of a typical beach experience on sand that I was used to. Slowing the tour down for a couple hours so that we could relax for a little while: cool.

The sun chasing me down despite my desperate attempts to escape it to take a nap in the shade: Not. Cool. At. All.

When the time came to head back to the boat, I was relieved. Maribeth and I were both done with this and I was definitely done with the sun that day. We schlepped back to the boat and settled in for the long cruise back to the boat dock.

Despite our bad attitudes from the start, we did manage to have a good time and definitely made some hilarious memories in spite of ourselves. And overall, the tour was fine. Definitely not the coolest thing I've ever done, but we did get to see a lot of Bocas.

When we made it back to La Coralina, Erica said, “Hey what happened with Batcho?" We hung our heads in shame and told her that we were stolen by a renegade boat captain and forced to endure hours at sea on a crowded boat with strangers.

The silver lining, and Erica agreed, was that the entire day's events only cost us $20.

Because of the night before, and an exhausting day out on the boat with all the randoms, we opted to eat dinner at La Coralina and put our Panama-sized hangovers to bed.

Day 215: Bocas Models/Bartenders/Headcases

Day 215 was our first full day in Bocas del Toro, so waking up in Panama paradise to see our glorious digs for the next four days was something I'd never done before.

When we arrived at our hotel La Coralina the night before, we loved it immediately. The owner, Stacey, was out of town, but the two girls running the place in her absence, Erica and El, were super friendly and we all liked each other right away. We drank a few "Welcome to Bocas," drinks with them and enjoyed a tasty dinner, feeling less like we were patrons and they were bartenders, more like we were all friends hanging out at someone's house. Someone's super awesome treehouse with a bar. We went to bed early and slept good, so excited about this amazing hotel.

Not until waking up at La Coralina on Day 215 did we truly understand how awesome this place was, however. I felt like I was living out my childhood fantasy of living in the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse. Only better because this treehouse had booze.

La Coralina is an extremely laid back place, in every sense of the word. In the morning, Erica explained to us that the staff sets up a juice and coffee bar for guests to help themselves. She told us breakfast was included in the price of our stay, and anything else, lunches, dinners, drinks could all be put on a tab that we could either pay at the end of each day, or pay at the end before we left.

"And," she said, "It's cash only."

I wasn't terribly surprised that an island town only does business in cash, but I rarely carry any (a fact that completely stresses my dad out despite it never affecting him). We shouldn't worry if we didn't have cash on us, Erica said, because the town has an ATM. Just one.

I love Bocas.

I will likely say this often over the next few days, but you all need to go to La Coralina NOW. You should've been there yesterday. The place is amazing. Unless you're lame, in which case, don't go. You're not welcome there.

After breakfast, which was no lame hotel continental breakfast but instead full of choices like fruit pancakes, egg burritos and omelettes, we walked down the hill to the water in front of our hotel.

I hesitate to say "beach," because while it was technically the beach, the shore was less the sandy beach that I am used to, more like coral reef. We dropped our towels and shoes and took a left to walk down the beach. While walking and talking with Maribeth, I looked to the right and ran head-first smack into a low hanging tree.

Truly, I'm surprised that I didn't get knocked down like cartoon characters do when they make such moves. The whole scene was very Gilligan’s Island meets Tom and Jerry. Thankfully Maribeth and I were the only ones on the beach.

After hanging out by the water for a while, we decided to use a couple of the bikes at La Coralina to ride into town. Riding bikes was a great way to see the area and a great way to get some exercise. More of a workout for Maribeth than for me, as the chain on her bike was nearly completely rusted out. If I have any negative things to say about La Coralina it’s that they only had two bikes available that worked, and they desperately needed to be fixed.

When we got into town, we pedaled around to try and find a place to eat. Erica and El didn't have many nice things to say about most of the restaurants downtown, but told us to look for a little shack of a place that serves the most authentic Panamanian food for very little money.

We were unsuccessful finding the place that they were telling us about, and instead walked our bikes into a cool place right on the water that was more or less like a floating dock with a bar in the middle of it. There were several tables, but no signs of anyone eating. We looked around, and enjoyed the view of the bay when a guy came out from the back. We asked him if they served food and he went into some explanation of how sometimes they do, but no one was there that day and they had just painted some tables. The conversation was confusing, and ended with us leaving, still in search of food.

After a near melt down, and I mean that both figuratively and literally (it was so blazing hot), we ended up finding the place El was telling us about and she was right, the shack was excellent. Chicken, rice, and beans served up by an older Panamanian woman for $5. Can’t beat it.

After lunch, we decided to rent kayaks and paddle around the bay. Maribeth and I had both kayaked before, but it had been a while, so I was a little shaky at first. But like riding a bike, we got right back on without too many mishaps.

We were paddling nowhere in particular when Maribeth, who as I've said before did all of the research for this trip, pointed out the Aqua Lounge Bar and Hostel across the bay. She told me she had looked into us possibly staying there, to which I scoffed.

"A hostel?," I said, "What are you, a sophomore in college?"

I don’t necessarily consider myself high-maintenance, but now that I’m 29, being “adventurous” no longer means paying $10 a night at a hostel and sharing a bathroom with college kids. I think some people would accuse me of being a snob in this regard. If so, then I’m guilty as charged.

Bottom line, I'm super happy that La Coralina is where we ended up staying. But there was a bar at the hostel, and I told Maribeth I was completely down with having a drink there. So we paddled over to the Aqua Lounge, tied up our kayaks and walked into the bar.

We both noticed immediately the bartender, who was American and extremely good looking. We had been at the beach all day, biking and now kayaking, so to say I wasn’t looking my best was probably an understatement. This, I think, made me hyper-aware of how attractive the bartender was.

Maribeth and I started chatting with cute bartender, who was nice enough, but definitely not overly friendly. He almost seemed annoyed, or like he was too cool to talk to us. We were the only ones at the bar, though, so he had no choice. We told him where we were from, and what we did for a living. He told us that he’d been in Panama for close to ten years after working as a model.

Of all the things that are difficult to bring up in conversation, I would imagine telling someone that you are, or once were, a model would be high on the list. This guy seemed to have no problem with it, however. And I, not knowing what else to say and well aware that this guy was hoping for a reaction from us, played right into his hands.

“Oh,” I said, “You were a model? That’s cool.”

My mild interest opened up the flood gates and Maribeth and I endured the story of his modeling career from his discovery in Miami at age 19 to him moving to Milan and New York, with a brief stint in Germany. For a good 30 minutes, we heard about how he got to skip to the front of the line during casting calls, the unfairness of the business and how the economy has affected models' ability to get work.

Though this was the last conversation I expected to have while drinking beers at a bar in Panama, admittedly, hearing about his exciting life as a male model was interesting. At first. But as time ticked by, and he kept talking, even after getting interrupted by customers looking for drinks, I kept thinking to myself, “Model or not, this guy talks about himself a lot.”

His need to talk about himself so much certainly made me feel less intimidated by his good looks, though. And when another American sat at the bar next to us, I was happy to hear about him applying for Panamanian citizenship that day and practically begged him to tell us about it so just so I could hear about something else.

We finished our drinks and our conversation with former model turned Panamanian bartender who urged us to come back the following night (Saturday) when the hostel/lounge had a weekly party. We said we’d try, and then paddled back to our bikes.

After biking back to La Coralina, we assumed our position at the bar drinking $3 rum punches and grabbing a bite to eat for dinner. There was a lot of discussion about whether or not we were going to go out. Truthfully, I could’ve stayed there all night and hung out at our hotel with Erica and El.

I mean, Maribeth shared with me that she thinks her cat is really a tiger and the two of them have conversations about everything from love to money, and I knew I wasn’t going to be getting that conversation anywhere else. But still, it felt wrong to be in Bocas and to not experience the nightlife.

We asked El and Erica to give us a suggestion on where to go, so they told the cab driver exactly where to take us.

Maribeth and I were shocked when the cab driver pulled up in front of same waterfront restaurant we’d tried to eat at earlier that day. The place we once found completely deserted was now absolutely packed full of people.

After a long time of standing at the bar by ourselves, Maribeth and I did end up meeting some new friends. Unlike Panama City, Bocas is full of tourists from all over the world, so we held our own little meeting of the United Nations where we were standing. Nearly every conversation started with us telling them where we were from, they’d ask how old we were, we’d tell them and they’d respond a variety of ways.

“Seriously?”

“Really?”

“No way!”

Apparently we look really young for our age? Or maybe most 30-year olds these guys know don’t travel to Panama and hang out in seedy beach bars?

I’ve been traveling with friends for more than ten years now, so all of this felt very natural to me. Based on the reactions of most of the people we met, our age, our singleness and the fact that we were traveling together may not be as normal to everyone else. Most of them seemed to find us quite shocking.

We met quite a few Canadians and Americans who live full time in Costa Rica, but were “forced” to come to Panama to get their passport stamped. Tough life, I thought.

We denied opportunities to make out with several of our new friends right there in the bar, though the awkward offers came all night. While flattered that once again, we seemed to be a hit among the gentlemen in Panama, I couldn't help but wonder why such offers are never presented to me in the United States. And, under the circumstances, should I then just move to Panama?

Regardless, we enjoyed our night out on the town. I think . . .no, I know we definitely enjoyed it too much.

Day 214: American TV in Panama

After such an eventful night in Panama City, we were slow to get moving the next day. Which was fine, because we didn't have any place to be until the afternoon when we were catching a flight to Bocas del Toro.

Ahead of our trip, I wanted us to leave on the 7am flight, but Maribeth thought it'd be better for us to leave later, knowing that we'd be celebrating her birthday the night before. When I woke up on Day 214, I'd never been so thankful to not get my way in my life.

When we'd first arrived in Panama days earlier, we'd found a television station that played reruns of popular American television shows like Seinfeld, Friends and Beverly Hills, 90210. We'd leave it on in the background when we were waking up and when we were getting ready, but until Day 214, hadn't really invested a lot of time into watching the network.

At the risk of revealing to you the ugly Americans we are, I'd never been so happy to lie in my air conditioned hotel room and watch TV.

Day 214's thing I've never done before was to watch an episode of Felicity. In Panama.

So maybe watching a stupid American television show wasn't the best way to soak up the culture of Central America. But I really didn't feel bad about it at all. In fact, our ability to waste this much time cooped up in our hotel room was, in my opinion, the greatest thing about traveling for so long.

I especially didn't feel bad because Felicity, I found out, is awesome. Attractive people in unrealistic scenarios, talking to each other in dialogue that no human ever uses, story lines so heart wrenching that crying at some point during every episode is nearly required. What's not to like?

Felicity is played by that girl that looks like the Noxzema girl, but isn't. The episode we watched took place on Thanksgiving in New York City where Felicity and her friends go to college. Only they don’t live in dorms, they live in these insane New York City apartments. And they don’t get sloppy drunk and make bad decisions, at least not in this episode. And two of them are married to each other.

Felicity and a really good looking guy named Ben were in some sort of fight or something, and they were avoiding each other. We had to watch nearly the entire show to deduct that the two were dating, but Felicity had recently cheated on him. Ben decides, then, to show up to the Thanksgiving dinner thrown by the married couple with another girl and things get really awkward. Felicity storms out, and then Ben and other girl storm out. And then other girl realizes she's just the rebound girl so she leaves Ben standing on the side of the road. By the end of the episode, Felicity and Ben somehow end up back together and then everyone is weirded out about that.

The only thing that was remotely realistic about this show was that Felicity and Ben's way of making up with each other was to get busy. The rest of it: the fact that all of these college-aged people were eating Thanksgiving dinner together and not with their families, Ben’s dramatic run to the airport to rescue Felicity, the constant introspective dialogue. That stuff never happens in real life. Or maybe it just never happens to me.

Midway through the drama Maribeth looked at me and asked me several times, "What's going on with her and that guy?"

"I don't know," I told her. "I've never seen this show before either."

"You don't know?!," she would yell from under her covers. "I want to know!"

These questions weren't just coming from her, though. I wanted to know each character's back story as well. Out of habit, we'd alternate asking each other questions like, "Now who is that guy?" or "Do those two date each other?" throughout the episode forgetting that neither of us knew anything about this show.

"How did we never watch this show when we were in college?"

Maybe because we were actually enjoying college. Real college. Where people show up in sweat pants to class, if they show up at all, drink cheap beer out of kegs and flippantly enter and exit relationships without a lot of dramatic conversation.

We hoped that when the hour-long episode was over we'd get another dose of Felicity to see what happened with her and Ben and maybe understand more of their history. But instead it was back to back episodes of Seinfeld that's we'd both seen several times before.

We were forced, then, to get up and get packed to leave.

Later that day, after milling around the 24-hour Panamanian grocery store near our hotel (something I’ve never done), we headed to the airport.

The airport we flew out of was a little building outside of the city. We arrived, checked in, and were given our tickets, which were plastic tablets that we had to hand back to the airline attendants waiting at the bottom of the stairs outside the plane before boarding.

When Maribeth and I flew to Vieques, Puerto Rico a couple of years ago (yes, she and I are like an old married couple, traveling as a pair), the airline attendant literally asked me how much I weighed so he could figure out how to balance everyone on the plane. As I opened my mouth to respond, Maribeth joked, "Now’s not the time for vanity, Stephanie."

She knows me too well. We laughed, and then I told him how much I really weigh.
I expected that with this small plane they might do the same, but no one asked me how much I weighed. Instead, they just looked me over like I was a piece of meat and said, "Sit in the middle." Not exactly scientific, but we landed safely, so I'm assuming it works.

And just like that, the beach part of our vacation was underway. Maribeth and I were excited. Nervous about Felicity and Ben, but excited nonetheless.