We needed a 4x4 because we were off to the Kuna Yala region, where the roads were known to be bad or non existent. What I didn't plan for was being crammed in the back like sardines for three hours with a very nice but very tall couple from New Zealand- but in Central America even I am a giant, it seems.
Finally at the coast, we were met by some locals with boats to take us over to the islands- our group were staying on a tiny one named 'Ima's', which was home to one extended family and their children. The Kuna people are the indigenous Panamanians who live traditionally along the north coast and hundreds of islands off. It's a separate community and government from Panama- not quite it's own country, but we needed our passports to cross over. Their flag has a swastika in the middle of it, which was interesting to see for the first time with a Jewish couple in the car...
Crammed into the little dug out canoes and already sweating from the heat, we waited as the rackety old bike motors on the canoes failed to start and spotted crocodiles chilling in the water just a metre from us. I could feel my face burning in the morning sun, and spent most the boat ride cowering over trying to shield it, while the girl in front of me cowered over trying not to be seasick.At some point during this mentally muggy time, I sprayed some 100% DEET on myself. One of my nature- killer doused legs was pressed against my water bottle, which had a label with dark blue ink on it. The result was a tattoo reminiscent of a Rorcharch test which didn't come off fully for a month, and which sadly a lot of people mistook for a genuinely terrible tattoo.
After a brief stop to one of the bigger (but still hilariously tiny) islands to buy some basic food provisions, we were at Ima's. And it was bloody gorgeous.For the next two nights, the five of us: Kiwi couple, Mexican free-spirit, the Irish and myself, slept in wooden huts with sand for floor and sky for roof. Drinks were the water we brought with us from the mainland, the coconuts which we shook down from the trees, and the odd can of beer kept in supply. Food was very basic- rice every day- no vegetables, BUT fresh lobster caught from the waters just around our sandy beds.
The days were passed with snorkelling, reading, chatting and I'm not sure what else, really... it's amazing how easily the time went by just with the everyday basic functions. We found a parrot who couldn't fly: it's wings possibly clipped by one of the family members on the island who kept it as a pet, who knows because we couldn't find such a person... he kept us amused for most of an evening, eating pieces of coconut we would cut out and feed him.I saw a mantel ray grace past me on my evening swim. I also saw a man adjusting a hand-made radio, who then saw me and shouted at me for trespassing. I suppose that section of sea was his back-garden.
I met a Swedish guy who travelled with nada but a guitar in a bin bag and somehow managed to hitch a ride down to Columbia on a little motor-boat with locals and their fish.The best thing about the island were the evenings. Being so close to the equator, the sun set rapidly at 6pm every night. At this point, a generator fired up to provide enough power to cook dinner and keep one outside light going, although when storms were in the air (almost always), the power cut out and dinner was cooked by candlelight over what felt like several hours... At 10pm every night, the generator went out and the entire island and neighbouring islands were plunged into complete darkness and silence- asides from the insects in the trees and waves at our feet.
The final night was one of the best of my entire trip: I sat on the sand under the most incredible starry sky, watching an electric storm over another island on the horizon. The sky's illuminations alternated between shooting stars above me and picture-perfect fork lightening striking in the distance. I write as if I've accidentally swallowed a whole back-catalogue of honeymoon brochures, but even so I cannot describe just how idyllic that place was. As we took the boat back to the mainland, a school of dolphins followed us, jumping out of the water and generally acting in a sickeningly stereotypical tropical paradise way, to remind us of the perfection we were leaving behind.
Of course there is one problem with the Guna Yala lifestyle- beyond that of no Facebook and having a curious flag design, of course; they have no litter disposal facilities. Beyond that, they don't even have a plan for litter disposal- or even the glimpse of an idea that they might need a plan for litter disposal. They just throw it all into the sea- where else? It wasn't a problem around Ima's- supposedly this island had very little rubbish to throw away and were encouraged not to since they were obviously involved in a tourism plan. But further out, and around the first island we stopped at for provisions, the shore was layered with the stuff. Noodle pots, beer cans, plastic bottles and sanitary towels- pretty awful to see floating around in such an otherwise perfectly unspoilt place. But it's simply because they've only had access to such things as plastic packaging within the last few years, and have no way to dispose of it. They're not paid to spend their precious fishing time transporting the stuff back to the mainland where is most likely unwanted anyway, so there is no incentive to clean up. Sad, but I'm sure Greenpeace and overpriced Gap Yah project teams will latch on to it in a few years time and sent out grinning sunburnt Brits straight out of public school and ready to Change the World.
But enough of all that.
Back in Panama City, I had two days in which to panic buy All Of The Souvenirs and enjoy a final drink with friends, watching the night-time sky-line. This was really it: I was leaving Central America. Not for home just yet, admittedly, but it was still very hard to digest. Sitting on the plane to Havana on the Friday evening, I did have to force back some tears. I will absolutely return to all these places one day, but I know they will have changed and the journey will be a completely different one. No choice but to close the chapter on the places I've seen and the person I was when I saw them.
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