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Super Road Trip to the Azuero Peninsula

Day Three

I woke up and pulled a few ripe mangoes off the nearby tree. I ate the juicy meat with my fingers and realized this sort of breakfast probably would have cost $7 at Wild Oats. I gathered my things, then ventured down even more south to Cambutal where good surf breaks and a frightening proximity to the equator welcomed me with open arms.

I ran into a bunch of surfers whose slow talking and stoner-like cackles reminded me that losing brain cells is easier than we think. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in Cambutal so I decided to drive up towards Santiago: a road that I never even knew existed until a few friends pointed it out on a map. The road that leads through the middle of the Azuero Peninsula is not quite as good as the one that dribbles along the coast, but it did offer a myriad of mini ecosystems and some new scenery. I drove past several little children who were kicking around a blown-up animal intestine like a balloon. This reminded me of New Jersey.

I needed to use the bathroom and pulled over in one of the small mountain towns, if you could call it a town. Not wanting to pee on just anywhere, I wandered up to a poor excuse for a house: this cinderblock edifice no bigger than my kitchen, to ask if I could use their facilities. (Believe it or not, this is a pretty common practice in Panama, wandering up to strangers homes and asking to use the bathroom). “Permiso” I shouted, “but does anyone have a bathroom I can use?”

Out came this little woman who must’ve been around 87 years old. “Of course we do” she said in Spanish. “Help yourself.”

The bathroom was about as simple as they come. After touring numerous new condo buildings in Punta Pacifica and seeing ultra-luxurious floor plans of bathrooms with saunas, Jacuzzis, and swimming pools in Gorgona, this opened up my eyes a bit. The boarded-up roof, deep hole in the ground and stabilization railing had reduced going to bathroom to its basics. Why do you need a plasma when you can watch little green gecko’s chase each other on the wall? When I came out and prepared to continue my trip, I noticed my car had grown a flat tire. Fan-freakin-tastic.

The little old house woman tried to fix the thing by hitting it with a stick, but no magic here. We called who she claimed to be her son: a car mechanic in Santiago, about an hour north. I was pretty sure the man on the other end of the phone was a woman, but I wasn’t about to call her out. The old woman, who I’d come to know as Irma, offered me her hammock to sit down. Her grandchild came running around at some point wearing a metal pasta strainer on his head. “Are you a little child warrior?” I asked him.”

I showed him a few very technical magic tricks and soon enough, the whole village was there, amazed by my ability to make river rocks disappear into thin air. I’d then shrug my shoulders as if to say, not even I have an explanation for what just happened.

Eventually Irma’s son (and indeed he was a male, just with a high-pitched voice) showed up and fixed my tire. He asked for $4 which I didn’t even feel covered his cost of travel, so I gave him $10. In return, he gave me his sombrero. As I left the community and all the friends that enjoyed my magic, I threatened that if any of them were to do anything bad like steal or curse, I would put a spell on the entire village. They took this very seriously and showered me with religious-like gifts—none of which I can accept, following the bylaws of professional magicians.

By the time I reached Santiago, night had fallen and I needed some rest. I holed up in my favorite spot: La Hacienda Hotel. It’s a little Mexican-built retreat in the middle of Panama. Fantastic. After a warm shower, tasty tacos, and the intro scenes of Rush Hour II, I fell asleep.

Day Four

I had already exceeded the ideal length of my trip, being that the amount of emails and work that would build up might resemble a famous mountain range. On my way back to Panama City, I stopped in Campana for some waterfall hunting. I found this beautiful one, about 40 feet, and met the family whose property it happened to sit on. They were eating paella by the bottom pool, the mist from the falls lightly forming a mysterious haze. I joined them.

We swung off vines and jumped off rocks landing in the icy waters below. Life seems to be so simple in these parts, and it’s really a book outta which I should take a page. I caught a very nice size fish, and when I say nice size, I mean about the size of a small paperback novel. It was the equivalent of landing a Wahoo though, considering the homemade balsa wood fishing poles we were using were designed for harvesting guppies.

The family was incredibly sincere and genuinely wanted me to come back and visit. This was a surprise, as usually when people say goodbye to me, it’s followed by “I hope we never see each other again.” I offered the family the last loose cash I had in my pocket for their hospitality and they accepted it, but with a certain sort of abandon. It became clear to me that money wasn’t something nearly as prized by them—or any of the people I had met for that matter—as perhaps a tight-knit family or a dog with good personality. Sure the money would probably buy them some extra clothes or whatever, but truth be told, all the people I had met on my trip valued things other than cash.

My journey to Panama’s Azuero Peninsula was characterized by a lot of things, but the most poignant commonality of all was the kindness of the nation’s people. The smiles on their faces, the raw pleasure they take in meeting new friends, the time and dedication they give to others. It was actually very moving and although I’m now back in the city, back to my normal grind and wear, I’ll remember each of their faces. I’ll remember that in the Azuero Peninsula, much unlike the rest of the modern world, life moves at a different pace.

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