Costa Rica to Panama and a hummingbird with no passport

Just arrived in Bocas Del Torro, Panama. After the Yoga retreat was over, I moved to a small place across the street from the Caribbean waters where people were surfing. Had extra rain, after not having almost any for a week. It was nice rainforest rain, warm and relaxing. As I write here on the balcony of Hotel Olas, facing the water, a hummingbird keeps flying back and forth, showing off her little dance and long beak. Does she care she lives in Bocas?

The shuttle to Panama began with a minivan ride, chatting in Spanish with the driver and sharing torta y bananas, then crossed the border, walking over a very old rusty bridge, with lots of gaps between the boards (it used to be a railroad bridge), passport control through a mostly dark window of a run down, peeling blue wooden hut, while I am standing under grey sky, taking a pause from crying over the earth. (Of course I gave Lauren my rain Jacket, thinking I can always be OK without it - and I am. The rain poured mostly when in the car. When I needed to cross the bridge it stopped, waited till I finished all passport control stuff, and only resumed while I got back into the car - good rain Karma!!).

I step into a small room, to get a stamp in my passport, literally a little paper stamp in exchange for 3 dollars. Next desk is something like costumes. The man checks my knapsack and then points to a small door beside him. As I step in, I realize it’s a small toilet. Hmmm, what next? He points to my belly. Oh, Of course he wants me to lift the shirt to see I have no weapon, right? Well, no. Cash, he says. Cash?? Where is your money? In my bag, I respond. Show me, he demands in Spanish. I go to my bag, get the Ziploc, place it in my pocket and walk back to the tiny toilet. I hand him the cash. Earlier I had to declare how much money I am bringing in, so I thought, maybe he will check if the sum is right. I declared $1500, but really had only $700. He pulls out the money and goes through it, holding one bill after the other against the light shining from the tiny window above. He is not counting it, but rather making sure it is real. There is lots of fake money being passed into Panama, and they are controlling the money. OK. Done. I take my stuff, head to the next mini van for another hour or so ride. We arrive at the water; get into a speedboat, and head over to Bocas del Toro. Calm waters, passing islands of floating green vegetation. My butt hurts from the wooden seat; so I drop my thinking mind, soften my gaze towards the water, and surrender. Suddenly I am gone; water, sky and islands are here.

Lots of sail boats around. I take my carry on and walk off the boat, while everyone else has a backpack. I decide not to worry about what other people are thinking of me right now. I walk towards a hotel that maybe has my reservation. I was emailing them, but at a certain point they stopped emailing back. (Was it my lack of ability to send Western Union from Porto Viejo?) As I walk down the chill out street of Colon, the main island, wondering whether I have where to stay tonight, a few hustlers tried to offer me other places, but I think I look seasoned enough, that they did not bother me at all.

I got my room, pretty much exactly what I was hoping for. Well, a bit better really. Though I am in a standard room, from my bed I can see the ocean. The whole house is on stilts floating on the water. So with a slight angle I get the entire ocean. There is a public balcony with panoramic views (photos soon), and some chill out couches, perfect for me doing work. Oh, humming bird is back. She seems content to wander around freely, with no passport or cash, finding her food one moment at a time.

When registering I was offered coffee and cake. The man bringing it over spoke Spanish, but had a thick accent when speaking English. Not really a Spanish accent. It turns out his name is Avi, and you can guess where he is from! 20 years in Colombia, and now this is another business of his.

I asked the receptionist for another room that seemed open, and she said it was booked. Later, when I came down, I heard Avi asking her to switch me to that room. You never know when it pays off being Israeli.