The Savage Traveler: Panama: Day 4

Monday, April 1: I can hardly believe this is real! I am in a hammock, a few feet from the ocean, with a stiff breeze to cool me in the rising temperature. We rose at 4:00, cinched up our now pared down backpacks, and took the taxi to the small Albrook Airport. Osiris (a small, round, young, Kuna woman) found us in line and helped us get our tickets and check our bags and a cooler of fresh fruit and vegetables for us to take to the island. They weighed not only our bags but each of us. Then we waited. And waited. A big group was taken out and put on a small plane and then all got off and they moved to a different plane. At that point we were taken to the first plane and told to sit any where and that the plane was too small for our luggage, which would be sent later this morning. By 6:30 we were in the air for the 45 minute flight to Achutupu landing strip. Juan met us there and told us their regular boat was being repaired so they had rented a smaller, uncovered launch to ferry us through rough water about 15 minutes to our island. It was overcast, windy and a pleasant temperature as we traveled. The San Blas islands run for about 114 miles along the Caribbean coast and are owned and governed by the Kuna Yala people. They came originally from Columbia and settled in villages along the coast and into the jungles. But 110 years ago, when Panama gained its independence from Columbia, they moved onto the islands to escape the mosquitoes and diseases of the mainland. There are 60-some villages of various sizes, each on its own island and with its own rules and regulations determined by the chief of the village. Our home for the next two nights is on a tiny island, just big enough for three thatched-roof bungalows hanging over the water, the dining "hall", which is open on two sides and is approached by a rickety dock because it is entirely built over the water, a landing dock, a small bamboo hut for the staff to hang out in, and a bunch of coconut palms, from which hang three hammocks, one of which is my spot right now. Juan will be our Kuna guide while we are here and loves to talk about his people. He speaks Kuna, Spanish and English. We were fed eggs, toast and a hot dog right away for breakfast. After Juan did a bit of an orientation for our time here, he told us we were free to relax, nap, etc. until we go to a nearby island village at 2:00. Although it was only 8:30am we all agreed it felt more like 10 or 11:00. Our island is about 30 by 40 yards across (or was when we arrived at high tide). About a hundred yards away are two larger but uninhabited islands, one of which Carlo, half of the Swiss couple (with Cornelia) who have the other bungalow, just swam to with ease. Beyond those islands and to each side are giant breakers rolling in and breaking on the coral reef in 20 foot splashes reminiscent of what Tom Hanks needed to surmount to escape his island in Castaway. Most people napped inside, waiting for the luggage to come with their sunscreen inside. Since I had applied mine in the morning I could enjoy the hammock, reading and watching native fishermen in their dug-out canoes pursuing their catch for the day as the sun broke through the clouds, the water turned lovely shades of turquoise, and temperatures rose into the nineties, but still with the stiff wind off the water.

In Panama City

North coastline

Achutupu Landing Strip

Traditional dugout canoe with sail

"Our" Island: Our bungalow is the first orange one from the left

Beds in our bungalow

Relaxing with the surf in the distance

Our luggage arrived and we enjoyed a yummy curry-type crab dish with rice. It was a huge helping. Marv ate some of his, not realizing it was crab. When reminded he shouldn't eat shellfish the cook prepared him an entire fish. We all had very ripe papaya and not very ripe cantaloupe for dessert. Then we had about an hour before we went to the closest island with a village, Ailigandi. The village there has 1300 people and a hospital started by a Baptist Missionary. He was very beloved and his wife returned to the village to bury his ashes when he died and stayed until her death, as well. Because of their influence there is only a Baptist church on Ailigandi, and no Catholic, Mormon or Evangelicals like the other islands. We visited a traditional cultural school where they are trying to keep their Kuna crafts and traditions alive. The principal told us about it while Kris translated. Kids attend regular school in the morning where they are taught English, Spanish and Kuna, and gather to play, socialize and attend classes in traditional crafts in the afternoon. There were kids and adults everywhere in the crowded lanes (there are no cars) and a relaxed atmosphere. Every home had a solar panel and we saw lots of people with cell phones. Many of the older women wore traditional Kuna clothing with Molas (very intricate and colorful embroidered applique) front and back. But most of the younger people were in school uniforms or shorts and tees. As we explored the village, Juan told us about everything and answered our many questions. We ended at a bamboo hut where an ancient looking elder has a small collection of carvings showing traditional coming of age ceremonies for girls, how they bury their dead, and their creation story. The old man was an accomplished weaver of portraits but Juan told us his art was dying because he couldn't find anyone interested in learning it. Westernization of the children is a huge threat to the culture of the Kuna as they flock to the cities and leave the old ways behind. The sun was hidden by clouds in the west as we headed back to Dad-Ibe. A cold beer tasted great as we read and relaxed until dinner. Tonight we each had a full fish with fried plantain slices. The six of us sat and chatted a long time at the dinner table. The staff fired up the generator at 6:00 and we had electricity until 10:00. Around 8:30 all the staff except Juan shook our hands and departed by boat. Shortly after a boat came from Ailigandi with two young men to serve as security guards while Juan slept in the bamboo hut. We all took showers of unheated water that came directly from a pipe in the wall and went to bed, exhausted by the long day and hot, humidity.