Bocas del Toro - Panama

Returning from our mountain adventures, Simon and I met up with our respective companions in San Jose. Mine was a friend from both high school and college, now finishing up his final year of med school. His name is Peter Gerritz, and quite a character, though words can never fully describe what he really like. In our group of friends he is know as The ´Enforcer´ because he etched that name* in green tape (even though our colors where red and gold) on the back of his football jersey for his first game his freshman year in high school. He is also known as ´Gary´ and teaming up with his college room mate Elan (´Ace´) they form incredible gay duo (here he is in full costume). He is also know as ´the dumbest smart man alive,´ for reasons which will become clearer to you in the following blogs I´m sure, but as for now, suffice to say, he is one of a kind.

Anyway, after and night out on the town with Simon and his friend, the two of headed south toward Panama. We made a stop over in a small Caribbean town called Chauita just north of the Panamanian border and fell in step with it´s laid back alternative vibe, chillin out on the beaches in the afternoon and sipping cervezas in a reggea bar come nightfall. The following morning we rose early and set out on a trek through a national coastal reserve adjacent to the town, where I educated the local animal life on safe sex, before donning our backpacks and hoping a bus to the border.

The crossing was a breeze, particularly since I had done it before with some difficulty and knew how to avoid it this time around. We were in Bocas by early afternoon and waisted no time in booking a dive tour for the following day. It was a full day of activities, starting with a trip to Dolphin Bay, where, as you might surmise, dolphins were to be found. We spotted one pair playing in the shallows but, upon closer inspection it seemed that it wasn´t just a little bumping going on and we were interrupting a little morning sha-bang-bang. But they didn´t seem to mind and kept at it all the while... you know what they say about dolphins.

After that we head out to Coral Caye, which, you guessed it, had a lot of coral on a caye. We made our first dive here and though the visibility wasn´t great and the sea life not amazing, it was a fun dive. Well for me anyway, since it was only my 7th. Peter, an assistant instructor scuba diver, with more than 250 dives under his belt, wasn´t jumping up and down. After that we lunched at a restaurant set out on some mangroves. Well, some of us lunched, willing to pay $9 for a half cooked piece of octopus, the rest of us snacked on crackers I´d brought with me. Afterwards, we made our second dive at Hospital Point, which, need I say, was to be found at the point of an island with a hospital on it. Again, not amazing, though I did see possibly the biggest hermit crab in the world, roughly the size of a large watermelon.

Wiped out from the days activities, Peter and I didn´t feel much like parting, but our dive master, a local Bocaterra, told us there was a Calypso party on a nearby island and it shouldn´t be missed. So, after a feed we took a lancha over to Isla Bastimentos in search of the this local shin-dig. What we found was a very unwelcoming island full of dark allies and shanties and one very unhappening bar. Not wanting to admit defeat quite yet, Peter and I walked around to see if we couldn´t find some hidden street that would lead us to this alleged amazing party. Nothing, just darkness and unfriendly looks. It reminded me a bit of my experiences in Livingston, but this time around I wasn´t alone. We inquired at a local market and the lady behind me in line said she would walk us to the bar, and the store clerk echoed that it would be best if she walked WITH us. Getting the hint, we followed this lady back to the same bar we had just come from and promptly dove on the first boat we saw and made speed back to Bocas.

The following morning, we set out on some rented bikes and made a 13km ride along the belly of the island to the beaches on it´s far southern shores. The ride was amazing, bobbing up and down as the road traversed the hilly lush tropical inlands. Half way along we stopped at a cave, famed as a bat grotto, and took a venture inside. It was absolutely teeming with bats, and I, not one usually frightened by the creatures, was mortified as my flashlight illuminated an entire ceiling alive with the vermin (pictured here). Peter conversely, was in heaven and gasping excitedly as he scampered futher down into the darkness clapping his hands with joy. Bats are his favorite animal. He even used to dress up like one sometimes in college, using mud to draw New Guinian bat markings on his face before he meditated. This of course afforded him another nickname: ´The Fruit Bat.´

After he had communed with his brothers, talking with them and calling each one his ¨precious babies¨ as they shat on his head, we biked the rest of the way to Bocas del Drago, an absolutely stunning beach at the end of the road. We had a brilliant lunch set among the shaded palms on a coral white Caribbean beach and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to break open coconuts and biking along the shoreline. We took a cab back to town, seeing as Peter, a few pounds heavier during med school, almost died during the ride there. I was a little winded too.

That night we met up with some Berkeley high alums, who were living in Bocas town building a vacation home for one of their families. It was good to be around Berkeley people again and for the first time in almost five months, I felt like I was back home chatting it up with old pals in a local bar. But, this feeling was short lived, because the following day Peter and I were off again, headed to Panama city and a flight out to the secluded San Blas Islands.


*He actually etched the name ¨The Barbarian¨on the back of his jersey, but when our college lacrosse coach, after hearing this story from us, was retelling this story to the rest of the team he couldn´t remember the name correctly saying he printed the name ¨The Enforcer.¨ Subsequently, and for the rest of his college carreer, he was always called by that name on the lacrosse field.