Dinner at the Shell station

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Hola amigos y amigas! Sarah and I have finally made it to Bocas del Toro, Panama, as far south as we plan to jouney. We´ve just noticed that the Canadian dollar is not holding up well against the American counterpart, which is what they use in Panama. I was surprised to learn that Panama officially uses the American dollar as their currency. They used to use balboas, but found the coins heavy and inconvenient. Somethng tells me there´s more to it, but I´ll leave it at that.

We began our travels in Guatemala City. we arrived late Saturday night without having secured ourselved a place to stay. We avoid planning like the plague. The finding a place to stay part turned out to be easier than expected. The finding an ATM and paying the taxi driver part, however, not so much. When we make assumptions, they are almost always wrong, a hard lesson learned. The airport was ¨closed¨. Here´s a word both of us are growing accustomed to quickly. Airports close? We can´t take our quetzals (Guatemalan currency)?

We agreed on a price for a taxi to take us to a bank machine and a hotel. Both debit and credit cards failed us several times. We made our most obvious we´re screwed faces as the taxi driver contemplated whether or not to ditch us there. All we had to offer him was the $20 Canadian we collectively scrounged. He agreed and I eyed perspective street corners and church steps to sleep on if the hotel we were headed for refused to take us without cash upfront. This may seem odd, but it´s entirely likely here.

Day two, Sunday, we awoke full of no-money worries and headed straight to an ATM--nada, no dinero, por favor. We tried several. In fact, our entire day was devoted to resolving this unnerving issue. The only positive note was that we were useless to thieves. We ate our first Central American meal of sandwiches and beer at the only place in Zone 1 that takes credit card, the Shell station, serenaded by boisterous local music. (For some reason, our cards worked there and nowhere else.)) Honestly, they love their music loud around here. Despite it all, we managed to survive until Monday no cash (we returned to the Shell a few times) and we laughed ourselves to tears about it.

I find people here friendly, but especially so in Guatemala. On one of our first days, we borded a local bus (beaten up yellow schoolbus) to get from Zona 1, where we stayed, to its markedly better-looking cousin, Zona 10. Sweaty like only Canadians can be in warm climates, we realized once on the bus that we had no idea where to get off. They´re not big on street signs in Guatemala City, and zones tend to blend into one another. Lucky for us, Gabrielle, otherwise known as the Most Informative and Friendly Local Around (MIFLA--they´re everywhere), offered to get off the bus early and show us around. Ordinarily, I´d be a little hesitant to follow, but this man was child-like. I honestly thought he was a schoolboy standing beside me until he looked up and i saw his face--a childman, I tell you!

He showed us the way in the most unassuming manner. Of course, the airline office we needed was relocated, but we eventually found it and cheap flights to San Jose, Costa Rica. Stay tuned...

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