Ehh... who needs to hike a Volcán anyway

Location: Boquete, Panama

Our first stint in Costa Rica has come to a close, but Panama is on the horizon. Boquete to be exact. After what felt like 3 or so centuries later we made it across the border only to get on yet ANOTHER of my favorite chicken buses (which by the Lonely Planet definition is an old-fashioned American style school bus) which has been elegantly adorned by the locals using an array of pens, spray paint, and knife carvings. I temporarily forgot we were still in the caveman days where we write on walls to express ourselves and tell our story. Following this bus from David to Boquete (during which an adorable little girl played the congas on my head for 30 minutes) we reached this lovely mountain town of rolling hills, cool breezes, tranquil gardens, flowing rivers and lots of trees. Something about it felt like a cross between Tahoe in the summer and Carmel (obviously sin el oceano). Quaint, yet with life blossoming all around (if you can find a cheesier way of describing a town please comment below).

Speaking of blossoming we just missed the Festival de Flores where hundreds of species of flowers are put on display and I imagine, like any other festival entirely devoted to one thing (i.e. flowers), there was flower jewelry, flower crafts, flower ice cream and whatnot. It would not surprise me seeing as Gilroy´s garlic festival has garlic ice cream. Ew.

We were greeted by our slightly insane and slightly perverted hostel owner, Pancho, (Julia took the brunt of the advances poor thing) who proceeded to talk a mile-a-minute in Spanglish as if we were supposed to follow since he used some English thrown in the mix. Between my fluent English and broken Spanish I caught most of it but it would have helped matters greatly if he had just stuck to one language. During his rapid speech and impressive display of arm flailing while explaining the region, he strongly suggested we hike Volcán Barú right after putting our bags down, which would take us 12 hours mas o menos. No gracias Pancho, but thanks anyway. We just came back from almost having to fight off crocodiles, I think we´ll just kick back for a bit.

The number of Americans living there shocked me until I was informed that it is one of the top 5 places in the WORLD to retire! Whatta ya say padres? Get a plot of land near the coffee plantation and drink a steaming cup of organic coffee straight from the source, learn a little Spanish, and maybe take up river-side basket weaving. Sound good?

I was relishing the cool air, appreciating the reprieve from the sweltering heat of Corcovado until I decided to eat some unwashed strawberries from the store. And as Julia so promptly notified you, I fell victim to the worst stomache bug of life. Lucky for me (and by lucky I mean very unlucky) there were 5 of us sharing a dorm room in the pervert´s hostel. I quickly learned how to curb the look of death on my face in the presence of an audience. We even got stuck with the one old guy who was traveling alone and would literally talk talk talk your ear off about absolutely nothing. Literally, until it fell off. Of all things his name was Wynn from Nevada. I was in for a LONG sickness.

And so it began. While my body was purging itself of everything I consumed in the last decade, Wynn thought it would be the perfect time to enlighten me about bargain book shopping in Panama and how he prefers the laundromat across the street to the one owned my Marcie. As if I knew or cared who Marcie was or cared about his veteran experience with the Boquete laundromats. I suppose that was his indirect way of saying that when the time came to wash any aftermath off my clothes once fully well, he had the hook up. Thanks a bunch Wynn. Now I´d like to punch you in the mouth if that will get you to stop talking for two seconds. In all seriousness though he was very friendly and willing to help and I wish him luck with his travels... and anyone who sits next to him on the 7-hour bus to Pan City. If it hadn´t been for Hoolia and her heroic presence I may have died that day.

When I got better and made it to Panama City, Julia picked up a guide book about Panama and on the first page, 4th item down under a heading entitled ¨Things to do in Panama¨it literally said, ¨Eat the delicious strawberries in Boquete.¨I kid you not. I think somewhere in the fine print it also said, ¨If you are not a complete idiot, do what your mother raised you to do and wash your produce before stuffing it in your face.¨ Noted.

Other than that little hiccup the visit was wonderful, the town beautiful, and the people charming. Although we were not exactly saddened to be leaving our overly-friendly, slightly perverted hostel owner and his screaming wife and kid.

Adiós Pancho. Adiós Wynn. And adiós Satanic strawberries.