just get me to the airport and put me on a plane. hurry hurry hurry, before i go insane

Making the plane this morning was the real miracle. Business class was just a pleasant little bonus.

We left at 6:30, just after sunrise. There was an extra hour of play for Panama. Abdil was up to see us off with a "Godspeed". Cookie must have slept in. We were actually ahead of schedule for the first half up the Pacific Coast - even taking five minutes to photograph one of the strangest artisan stores the side of a highway had ever produced. In my eyes, anyway. All these robots, horsemen and ancient birds made out of recycled steel and engine parts. I just couldn't resist.

It all started going downhill when we missed the congested Puentas Americana exit. Google had urged a clear right but both signs said Panama and I went left. It wasn't a particularly costly mistake, except that the traffic into the city was so bad that we barely moved for a good half hour before it finally cleared up before the bridge. Then we couldn't find the Corredor Sud and got helplessly sucked into the confusing city streets. I was also running out of gas. And everyone else seemed even more impatient than me. On one particularly harrowing four-lane roundabout, I came within inches of hitting a guy who was cutting left while I was trying to go right. The adrenaline and curses were flying now. Wish I had taken the time to brush up on my Spanish.

It was already well past nine. My allotted travel time was up and I was still circling the city. We settled on the Corredor Nord instead and asked three different toll booth ladies to reassure us that yes, we could indeed get to Tocumen Airport this way. The empty light was already on. I considered shutting the AC to conserve fuel. When we finally reached the proper exit and a gas station, my reserve tank was so depleted I had to put gas twice to make sure Europcar wasn't getting anymore than the nothing they had given me. We returned the car by 9:45 and cleared check in at 10:15, leaving us a solid half an hour before boarding. Security officials deflated the little soccer ball I had bought for the beach, quite possibly assuming I was transporting drugs in it. Can X-Ray machines not see through rubber? 

It was only when we finally stepped on the plane that I actually looked at the tickets. We were sitting in Row 1. We were so happy I didn't hear the steward ask me if I had gotten my ball back alright.

the early birds get the last sunset

We were up at 4:30 this morning to catch the sunrise. The roosters had deceived us. Sunrise was actually an hour and a half later.

I accepted the short snooze and dreamt of sunrises. The real life one was just as pretty - and it included some banana and nutella tacos and the company of Cookie, the hotel's resident basset hound with the pink rhinestone collar. Should we ever actually follow through on all the big dream talk of moving here for good someday, we will open up a restaurant called Choco Loco and this will be the signature breakfast dish.

A full-on sun day would have been outight cancerous in today's heat. So we took a drive down the Inter Americana to Penonome in search of beach toys and Panama Hats. What we found was a bustling little town with lots of dollar stores but no paddle balls. I haven't figured out just how long the Chinese have been in this country, but there are a lot of decent-looking Asian/Panamanians walking the streets and serving killer chicken dishes with vegetables and peanuts by the highway. I had already committed to a $3 imitation hat when a sweet local told us where we might find the real deal - insisting that I reminded her of that guitar player from GnR, the band that had taught her most of her English. In Pintada we found only one simple shop with a tiny old woman. There were only a few models to choose from and she chose the same hat for Amy that first caught my eye. It looked like a Louis-Vitton and clocked in at $50 after some gentle haggling. Well worth the drive.

When we finally got back I gave Abdil the lottery ticket I had bought him and told him that should it be a winner, we would build our little beach Villa next to his and enjoy the life together. He let us take the lawn chairs down to the beach. We spent the better part of the slow sunset walking the beach collecting seashells and figuring out just how early we'd have to get up tomorrow to do the same before driving back to Panama to make the late-morning flight to Costa Rica.

one timers, one liners

There are manholes in downtown Panama with no covers. One unlucky text message or one too many drinks and you`re a goner for sure.
Not every large hotel deserves its own dedicated TV channel. Really now.
Chicken Kitchen. Chicken Kitchen. Chicken Kitchen.
Just because some park advertises monkeys, doesn`t mean you`ll get monkeys.
If the road to some poorly marked hiking trail gets so steep and rocky your 4X4 can no longer handle it, you`re probably on the wrong road. Off the beaten path isn`t that literal.
Young local boys who hike behind you half way up a mountain just to prove themselves worthy guides will give you right directions regardless of if you actually cave in or not.
Men with machetes slung over their shoulders are intimidating.
One-sided signs are not very helpful on two-sided roads.
Some Panamanian worker ants are just freeloaders.
And there really is an old man called Don Pepe.
He`s got a parrot name Ricky.

i once was lost but now am found

We're in the mountains now. Sticky Panama feels light years away, even if we were just sweating it out at the Miraflores Locks on the Canal this morning. I'm in a hoodie now. A two-hour drive can really work wonders on your core temperature.

I really had high hopes for the Panama Canal. I was picturing just sitting back to a small sea of giant tankers drifting by with their multicoloured containers. Instead, we watched a bunch of eager tourists try to snag pictures of one tiny boat's epic journey through various chambers of rising water. Like watching paint dry, noted Amy. A tourist trap if I ever saw one.

High time to ditch the city, especially since Sunday worked out really nicely. We took a hike to the Parc Metropolitan in the morning and then took another impossible drive into the heart of downtown. We actually managed quite well on the way to the Causeway. It was hot and windy as all hell and I accidentally walked into at least two different local trying to fly their kites at the giant park. Then we rented bikes and rode to several small posh peninsulas just off the city centre. On the advice of one of the only particularly friendly (and bilingual) hotel guests, we then attempted to make our way to an outdoor market in the Government District for some killer Lobster Ceviche. "Just make sure you avoid La Chorrera" she said, referring to one of the city's infamous no-go neighbourhoods. We ended up driving right into it. No harm done. But when we finally finished eating, we got completely lost (again) and ended up right back in the slum (again) and then right back at the same restaurant ten minutes later.  

But that all feels very far away right now. El Valle is a travelling driver's paradise by comparison, with only one main road and plenty of signs telling you exactly where's where and what's what. This town is apparently built on the crater of a now dormant volcano. The clouds fly so low up here you are constantly being drizzled in a very fine mist; God's own little spray bottle. Amy is a big fan. The only remnants of Panama City now are the gale-force winds - of which I am not.

I'm loving the roar of it though. I'm pretty sure we have the entire third floor open-air lounge to ourselves. Even the cute little Green Parrot and his impressive arsenal of Spanish greetings has gone silent for the night.