San Blas... You Left Me Speechless

Prior to the February break, which was a two-week intermission between Quimesters, Kara and I played around with the idea of traveling together. On the list of potential places to go included Montevideo in Uruguay with a potential swing-through Buenos Aires in Argentina. Panama also came up, but not with as much enthusiasm from Kara. This was the only country in Central America she had not yet visited... which are my personal feelings about ever visiting China (it just doesn't spark my interest). After a week of delay, the ticket prices increased significantly for Uruguay, so we jumped on board for Panama. This was also around the time that her friend Boxer made official plans to come visit-- at least I think what happened? It was forever ago.

Paradise is in San Blas.

On the list of our itinerary was, of course, Panama City. Another place that sparked interest were the San Blas Islands, on the exact opposite side of the country from Panama City... literally. Like, just go straight across from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic and you're there. The biggest challenge that posed us was that San Blas is controlled by the indigenous people called the Kuna Yala, and rightfully-so. As we would find out, amid their use of the Swastika (foreshadowing?) were celebrating their 90th anniversary of revolution from the Panamanian government. Thank god for Kara-- SHOUT-OUT, GIRL!!!-- and for her knowing people in Panama that she got us connected with someone from the tribe, who is working at the same international school as her friends. For $365 each, we were arranged with a "package" to stay on a small island named Walidup, in huts on the beach, with meals included and our discretion on which tours we wanted to engage in. We didn't know anything that was arranged except for those small details, but hopeful that we would get more information closer to the trip. 

While making these plans, I recalled a conversation I had with Brenda--HEY GIRL, HEY!-- over the phone about San Blas Islands and her experience.... She recanted a story of nightmare and misery in paradise. One night, it stormed and sand was flying everywhere including her personal hut. This was just the tip of her iceberg, but I remained bright-eyed about my to-be experience.

I should have listened closer.

San Blas: Paradise. Is. Hell.

When we arrived in Panama, again, it was the middle of Canival celebrations... meaning banks would be closed for a few days. While this doesn't seem like a huge deal, I have become accustomed to paying for almost everything these days in cash. Cold. Hard. Cash. Cha-Ching! San Blas was not going to change this for me. Kara's contact was okay with this and helped figure out a way to work around the bank holiday. So, on Tuesday, before going to Parque Metropolitano Nacional, he met us at our hotel to collect the payment from the three of us and gave us a brief itinerary of our travel day the following morning. Between 5-5:30 A.M. a driver would pick us up and drive us directly to the port that would transport us to our island. That night, we attended the BBQ and we made it to bed around 10:30 P.M.... and got the shortest night of sleep ever. Or lately. 

The alarm went off. We struggled to wake up. I finished stuffing my pack. I schlepped my crap downstairs. I stumbled across the street to the Texaco station. I slammed my first energy drink since August 2014. I nearly passed out from exhaustion while sitting on the curb. Sure enough, the driver arrived at 5:30... Panama did one thing for me over the trip. In Ecuador, it is not uncommon for things or people to run on Ecuadorian time, where "mañana" could mean tomorrow or next week. Panamanians are shockingly punctual! Like exactly. The driver chauffeured Kara into the front seat, and stuffed Boxer and me in the back row of a Suburban, behind an older couple. For the next 90 minutes, we would ride in darkness and silence until we stopped at some roadside "café" built next to some car impound or scraplot or something. Everyone kind of rolled (or fell?) out of the vehicle. The woman in front of me started speaking to the man... in German! I was so excited to have an opportunity to practice the little bit of German I remember... this is a key event of the trip. We began speaking in their native tongue. Berliners on holiday in Costa Rica and Panama. We exchanged conversation back and forth before the scary part of the trip was to begin. One scary part. 

About 30 minutes passed and we turned off the main highway to the "San Blas Hills." Up. Down. Swerve. Turn. Roller coaster. Paved. Then unpaved. Paved again. Twist. Speed up going downhill. I swear we were going to die. The driver spoke Spanish and he was narrating the trip to Kara in the front.

The road to San Blas... is paved and unpaved with unholy intentions. 

"He just told me that a car drove off the road here down this cliff. There was a pregnant woman in the car, but thank goodness she was wearing her seat belt"

"Another car drove off this way down there a few days ago. Nobody died."

His narrations kept coming and coming and coming. No end. It seemed like he was getting his rocks off from this, because at the end of each story he sped up faster and faster. In his defense, he did say that the crashes were from people who have never driven those roads and didn't know where or how to navigate them. Okay, I'll give him that one because he must drive that route twice a day for the seven-ish years he has been doing it. 

At the port

Meanwhile, I was getting extreme carsickness / motion sickness for the first time in my life. The games of "Would You Rather" involving any musical group VS. Nickleback (because Kara and Boxer are Canadian and I was tempted to find one group they'd prefer Nickleback over) and singing along to the hits of the 90's, 00's and today..... they didn't work. I thought I was honestly going to vomit all over the interior. The German woman turned to me a couple times and muttered something, and the only thing I could say back to her was "Hoffentlich wir werden nicht tot sein." Her husband shared with me he had dramamine. At the end of the death drive, he gave me two pills to deal with the ride back. However, the ride wasn't over. We were stopped at two checkpoints, where the men were wielding semi-automatics and camouflage. We had to fill out their "immigration forms" and pay them an additional $20 for admittance (we paid this in advanace, so we ended up getting this back when we departed). The second checkpoint was to receive instructions on where we were to depart. At first, the Germans were going to be dropped off at what looked like Alpine Valley's concert grass parking and we would be taken to a different destination five minutes away. NOPE! They "messed up" and dropped us off in this makeshift parking lot, which was littered with the most variety of trash I have ever seen, and leaky third world plumbing. This was only the beginning. 

The MC Station

As we waited outside the vehicle, the MC of the Kuna Yala tribe hollered over the mic "SAN BLAS TOURS! SAN BLAS TOURS!" to wrangle our trusty guide raging bitch monster. He had to do this at least three times before she graced us with her presence. Stink-eye the whole time at us. Undersized t-shirt that crept up like a crop top, exposing her less than appealing midriff. Long and thin strapped purse crossing her torso, containing her little Nokia pay-go....... OKAY! Maybe I am being a little harsh. After all, I had a list of things against my feelings toward her:

1. I didn't get enough sleep the night before
2. the ride left me feeling really sick
3. I don't travel very well. The act of actual travel.
4. She might be shy at first. 
5. Maybe she has a Garfield mentality about mornings, too

Above: Video tour of our island. Note the trash.
Pictured here: the place to avoid forever.

She "guided" us to the boats, but not well enough. We started walking through the "wrong" gate and the locals started yelling at us. After switching to the "correct" gate, our forms were checked, and then were "ushered" to our boat. After grunting a few "words?" and pointing in very general directions, we got into our private boat and started to our island, Walidup. We were expecting something private and secluded, away from the hustle and bustle of other tourists. We wanted a quiet, relaxing experience. Other boats, filled with people, zoomed past but it was okay because they were departing to islands closer to the shore. Thirty minutes later, we pull up to our island? The older men, presumably lifetime bachelors "by choice," were wearing shirts that said "San Blas Tours" and "Walidup," but it looked nothing like the pictures we saw... the pictures of the island that was online but is now vanished. The "manager" showed us to our room. It was a single full-size bed, a door without a knob, and a door that wouldn't close. Wires were exposed, we could see through the floor slits into straight-up ocean, and the window lacked any kind of covering. Holes were also drilled in quite random places in every wall. The shock hadn't hit me yet, like it did for Kara and Boxer. I felt like I was in paradise. The water was the bluest and clearest I have EVER seen. The sand was white, scattered with palms and other tropical type plants. With barely any time to figure anything out, our guide bitch beckoned ordered us to get in the boat because we were going somewhere. She wouldn't tell us where or why or what. So we get in, are ushered to the smallest island with the most people. Exactly what was the goal to not do. We get out the boat and she tells us that lunch is going to be at 12:30. Kara asks "Where will we find you, or will we meet somewhere?" and she goes all like "I'll find you." The only other instruction were were given was to "get into the water." So you're telling me we paid all this money to get a tour of being told to get into the water?

POSITIVE: I snorkeled for at least 90 minutes using my underwater iPhone case and got some awesome photos. Part of what I explored was a sunken ship, where part of it was still above sea level... the water was maybe 12 feet deep and crystal clear.

Coral reef living on a sunken ship.

The neighbors are invading.

Lunch was delivered, and I had half a freshly caught lobster. I was getting sleepy so I laid out onto my towel and rested. Meanwhile, this family comes out of nowhere, camps immediately next to us despite the space, and begin to kind of invade my bubble. I couldn't wait to get off this island, whenever that would be. Our "guide" found us again and delivered us back to our island. While we had been gone, some of the men began projects of repairing boats, doing other construction-maintenance style things.... and we realized. This wasn't the island we booked for our stay. We were marooned on Isla de Mantenimiento (Maintenance Island). Thank god I brought my brand new slack line, from Macacao, because it was instant therapy. Mind you, at this point, we went through ALL of the water we brought with us and it wasn't even the end of the first day. Boxer went to get us some from the "bar" at the main building, and she returned with news about our dinner options. After going relaxing under the palms and slack lining for a while, I decided to take a dip around our beach. The "manager" told us to not touch the starfish so I was curious. These suckers were bigger than frisbees. No joke! By the time I grew tired of this, it was dinner time. Dinner was served, but no drinks. Not even water. This started the first of MANY arguments. When Kara, the only person these natives would talk to of the three of us, asked about it, the only response we got was, "Bebidas no estan incluido." WHAT THE HELL!? We are in the middle of nowhere, being assaulted by unadulterated sunlight, and we paid a combined total of over $1000..... and drinks are not included!? Kara refused to back down and they submitted. She also requested the "manager" to inform our guide bitch that we want drinks included with our meals. He agreed, and then joined this random Brazilian yacht crew for some beers and what seemed like Russian-hooker entertainment. Seriously, I cannot make this crap up. It was also pitch black at this point so we had no other option but to go to bed... in our hole-y room with no curtains. We rigged our towels to the wall to get some privacy in hope that we wouldn't get spied on in our sleep and that the following day would bring much more serene results. 

Then it was day 2.........

We woke to our included breakfast and complementary coffee, the only drink that was officially included. One of our meal items was this really good fried bread, which the "manager" called "harina frita." NO SHIT SHERLOCK! We didn't know when we would be picked up for our next "tour" so we set up the slackline and relaxed for a while. 

[Raging Bitch enter stage left;

Abruptly and rudely barks directions]

One of the small islands visited

We were instructed we were leaving for some random island. It turns out this island was super small with only three palm trees and a lot of exposed sand beach. We were dropped off without any instruction about what was happening during the day except she would pick us up for lunch. Whenever. It took a while to get settled but it was probably my favorite of the locations. We were the only three visitors for a good hour, so I got very uninterrupted snorkeling time in. After that hour, though, boats of people and more people kept swarming in and the little island soon felt overcrowded. Luckily our guide was ready to pick us up and brought us to our lunch destination. Our options were chicken or fish. Having eaten seafood the previous two meals, I opted for chicken. Boxer requested politely fish. When the fish came out, it still looked like a fish. Boxer was not feeling it and asked for chicken instead. Our "leader" frankly said there was no more chicken left on the island. Ooooo-kay. Then we asked for our drinks. "Bebidas no estan incluido." Fuck it. Fine. We want three waters then and we will pay for it. "No tengo agua." Alright, what do you have? "Solo soda." What kind, then? "Solo coca-cola normal." Are you kidding? At this point, I was fed up and convinced that she was trying to kill us. We hadn't any water in almost 24 hours, and now we are being fed syrup that will only dehydrate us more? We were stuck on that island for at least 90 more minutes so I took to snorkeling again.

POSITIVE: while I was in the water, I saw a group of 7 to 9 cuttlefish! WILD CUTTLEFISH! And they changed colors in front of my eyes! Never did I ever think I would experience that in my life.

When another group finished eating, we were directed into the same boat as them. Our guide bitch changed personality sooooooo quick. She actually seemed sweet but we knew the truth.

At la Piscina.

We got to a place they named "La Piscina," but she warned us it really wasn't a pool. It just looked like one. Reeeeeaallllly? Again, not given an option, we hopped out of the boat into this sandbar and waited for 30 minutes to leave. It was gorgeous but the experience was leaving sour tastes in my mouth. We get back in the boat and are dropped off at the same island we were at in the morning.... and all we wanted to do was go back to our island. Back and forth, Kara and this girl went at it until Kara won.

Okay, I know this girl doesn't seem like she was being a total bitch... but the things she did and the way she acted deserve its own blogpost. I will not waste my time on her character traits. But I get it. She probably doesn't see any of the money that we paid ever. She probably is told exactly what to do, and which tourists to schlepp around and to where. It probably is one of the last things she wants to do with her time but look. Everyone has to do things they don't enjoy. Suck it up. Act your age, or at least the age you appear to be (which was either 22 or 35... girl looked hung up wet). 

We get back to the island, just mad and infuriated. Dinner comes and we ask the "manager" what the plan was for the following day: if we were going to need to pack our things right away and take them with us or if we would return to the island before departing for good. He responded with "What time do you want to leave?" What are our options? "8 AM or 3 PM." 8 AM, please! Our moods changed instantly and I celebrated by purchasing some really crappy cheap beer to toast. Afterwards, it was bedtime again. We rigged everything up and fell asleep....

...and woke up to the most insane windstorm I have ever experienced. There was a door slamming because of the wind current and I angrily searched high and low for this door to make it stop. The towels over our window fell off, exposing us. None of us slept well. Morning was a long ways off.

When it was morning, we ate our (cold) hot breakfast and eagerly waited for our boat to take us back to real land. The port upon our return was dirtier than I remembered. It also took an long time for our truck/SUV to arrive... as soon as I got in though I popped that dramamine from the Germans. We were finally on our way out and back to civilization

I became a pro at cracking coconuts by the end.

In Conclusion:

This will always be one of my most memorable trips ever. I know this post is coming off negative but we did enjoy each other's company, which is the one thing that got each of us through the entire thing. San Blas is stunningly gorgeous. I have never seen a place as paradise as this was. However, I went with no expectations and the treatment we received was abhorrently. I went in wanting to respect their culture, but left with disgust from seeing how they took care of their territory. I am fortunate to be able to visit places like this, but one time will be enough. However, the travel partnership must continue!