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Day 208: Panamerican passage to the hills beyond
Not wanting to be searching out new lodgings in the dark, I had to set off early this morning, and having got up before the pervy security guard had poked his nose round the door, I got a taxi to the bus terminal and caught the eight o'clock bus to David.
Fairly uneventful, the journey was fairly restricted to the usually tarmacked roads of the Panamerican Highway. In between the films being shown on board, I did manage to get a bit of sleep and met a couple of English girls a few seats in front, and seven hours later, we arrived in David, a big and fairly unexciting city, and hour or two south of the Costa Rican border. From there, we caught a big yellow American school bus to Boquete, an hour away, up in the mountains. Arriving in the midst of a torrential rainstorm, the three of us made a beeline for the nearest hostel over the road from the bus station. Fortunately, the hostel, owned by the charismatic Pancho, turned out to be cheap, cheerful and full of character. After a quick guided tour of his home,
Pancho drew us a fantastically illegible maps, explaining the major sights and attractions to us in his finest spanglish.
Quite tired, we dropped our things off in our dorm, and along with a guy from Texas, went to a coffee shop for a fantastic, locally grown brew, reviving us before heading out to dinner in another nearby cafe. Although the rain had stopped by this point, we were all pretty tired, and after hanging out for a while at the hostel, we all got an early night, with alarms set for a walk the next morning.
Day 209: Hillside wanderings.
Assured by Pancho that it only rains in the afternoon (when a torrential downpour for many hours is guaranteed), we got up super early and set off for a walk around the lanes through lush countryside and coffee plantations around Boquete, stopping at one at half seven for a much needed coffee. With a wet climate, the landscape was fairly luscious, with an abundance of foliage, flowers and coffee plants on both sides of the road, and clouds hiding the tops of the hills around the town. It was quite a lovely walk and very pleasant
in the warm sunshine, and we arrived back in town in time for lunch at one of the local bistros.
By early afternoon, the rain arrived on queue, and within minutes, there were streams flowing down the roads of the town, somewhat restricting our afternoon activities to indoor pursuits, which largely seemed to involve food, drinking coffee and cooing over the very cute hostel spaniel!
Still raining, I was introduced to the world of basketball a little later in the day, as one of the guys at the hostel wanted to watch a game that was being screened in a local pub. Although I'm clearer on the rules now than I was this time yesterday, I don't think I'll be becoming an enthusiastic supporter of any team any time soon. Fortunately, there was wine, more food, and plenty of other people who didn't understand the sport either to keep me company, and after a couple of bottles of Argentinian malbec, we retired to bed slightly later than I had planned.
Day 210: In search of the elusive Quetzal
Up at half-six, I was joined by Albert, a guy from Ohio, as we set off on
a trip up to the nearby national park, twenty minutes by taxi away from Boquete. We attempted to pay park fees at the local rangers hut, but I think he was probably still asleep, so we set off without paying, on the Sendero Quetzales, a popular walkway through cloud forest that would take us to Cerro Punta, a town nearly 1000m higher than Boquete. One of the highlights of the trip, was that the forest was inhabited by the quetzal, central america's long-tailed, native, but very elusive bird. Although we heard it up in the treetops many times whilst hiking, we unfortunately didn't get to see one. Despite this, we had a very pleasant, if slightly muddy and steep walk, through the forest and clouds, encountering only a couple of local indigenous people along the whole route, before we arrived tired, wet and muddy at the park ranger's office at the other side of the national park (where we did pay our fees). From here, it was another hour and a half walk by road into Cerro Punta, a small farming town up in the hills, where we sat and waited for the shuttle bus to start the first leg
of our trip back to David.
Although the shuttle bus arrived soon enough, it's widely accepted that shuttles don't leave until economically sensible to do so (i.e. until they're full to bursting)! We therefore spent rather a lot of time driving round in circles, picking people up (and dropping a few of them off), in every town we went too, adding a good hour to the journey, before we got to David, where we took another bus back up to Boquete. Arriving in the early evening, we had enough time to shower and rest a little before meeting up with some others for a very nice evening of cheese and wine at the hostel.
Day 211: A very pleasant Sunday
I had thought that I might get up early and leave today, but having woken up at six, I was feeling lazy, and so turned over and went back to sleep again. Getting up a few hours later, I made the most of the few rain-free hours available, and head up to some private gardens. Maintained by the owner of one of the houses in Boquete, they were a very lovely, and extensive array of flower-beds,
koi-carp filled ponds and water channels.
Back in town, most of the good coffee places seemed to be closed on a Sunday. In their place though, the many bars, which by-and-large, were non-descript buildings without signs outside, were doing a roaring trade, with many a man stumbling into the road, or passed out at the side of it by lunchtime. It turns out they really like to kick back and chill out on a Sunday here!
I was meant to be going to some hot springs with Albert this afternoon, but having waited for an hour in a river created by the torrential rain, we both gave up, and made our way to the pub instead for a couple of drinks and to dry off.
Along with another guy, we had dinner at a local italian restaurant, where the owner, a very loud, rude and drunk New Yorker, boasted to us about his infamous marinara sauce. Despite having to put up with the owner (who was absolutely plastered), the meal was indeed very good, although we didn't stop for dessert, but paid the bill and scarpered at the earliest available opportunity, to continue drinking red wine back
at the hostel, with a few more newcomers. Packing up my things, I'm determined to make a move tomorrow, and have psyched myself up for a full day of travelling.
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