I'm amazed we even found the hotel at all. It's not as if they put up a sign on the building or anything. Not to mention there are no street names or addresses in this town. And nobody speaks English. Nobody. Thank God for some patient individuals and my broken Italian. What else are two exhausted individuals in a rental Hyundai Tucson to do?
All in all, a pretty smooth start. It must be said.
Perhaps the 6:15 flight out of Montreal was a little ambitious. I'm still not even sure why we bothered going to bed for those two hours. But both flights went super smooth and Amy was relatively relaxed about the whole thing. She devoured her smut celebrity mags and I forced myself to watch In Time - a terrible piece of film making with predictable dialogue delivered by a one Mr. Timberlake. Sadly, there wasn't more sleep to be had. After landing in Miami, we blew $200 on sunglasses at Duty Free. I wore mine halfway through the next flight and stared at the royal blue and turquoise ridges of a Caribbean desert punctured only by dashes of white from all the boats. Turbulence was negligible until after we touched down in Panama. Despite having our car rental price "guaranteed" online, we still had to dish out extra for third party liability. House rules - the calculations scribbled in pencil on the contract. The road into town was lined with slums, abandoned cars and piles of garbage; reminded me more of Nairobi than Costa Rica.
But the room at this hotel almost made up for all those hours. All windows, with views so crisp it made me dizzy. From where I'm sitting now I could see one guy still swimming laps in the empty pool below. If I could only tell you how long it took us to locate that pool.
After this coffee, I'm going to attempt to wake up Amy and continue this crazy marathon. Maybe hit the Golden Lion Casino downstairs.
Get lucky and move into the Penthouse suite, another nine floor above.
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