Homeless By Choice

I entered a Panamanian hospital at 9:03 this morning. After inquiring at
the information desk if the man spoke Spanish within a minute I was appointed a personal customer care that followed me all day and translated for me.

I was admitted in less than 5 minutes and saw a doctor in under an hour.
I received an exam, a cat scan, a neurological exam, 2 MRI’s and another neurological exam. I was out by 4:00 and the total bill was $1,100.

It was a marvel of efficiency, organization and patient consideration.

You left us too soon. Rest in Peace.

I have shunned she who comforted me most. I have come to doubt all that I have held as true, I stand alone, without beliefs.

Four overfed gringos left Bocas del Toro and set off for Pixvae, “a named place in Veraguas, Panama” also described as “a populated place near Coiba National Park, in Verguas, Panama” in pursuit of fish.

Very shortly after entering the water taxi service I was approached by an elderly Panamanian, “Are you going to Alimirante my good friend?” Here we go. If somebody in Panama calls you a good friend, it is like an email from a Nigerian asking for help in giving you large sums of cash. There are only two stops on this shuttle and at either terminal the other is assured. I am in Bocas, the other terminal is … Almirante. “No I am going to Limon, this boat goes to Limon, right?” After several minutes of bullshit he finally asks for money, I pointed at Walter, “Walter is very rich, he likes to give money to people, please talk with Walter.” Chester got a shit eating grin on his face.

The 20 minute boat ride was uneventful. A Panamanian greeted Chester by name and grabbed Chester’s bag and mine. I wanted to carry my bag.

A guest at my hostel got robbed at Aqua Lounge, his day pack was stolen. While skinny dipping in the bay with a hottie he met, his clothes were stolen, but his money belt fell in the bay. Aqua Lounge has no way to get to the island that I know of so these little bastards must have hopped the fence.

Some weasel stole a bike from in front of this place the day before I got here. I’m opening up the fences and going to have a dog on the back deck, now how do I stop somebody from poisoning it?

I don’t have the benefit of writing after the fact. Paul Theroux and his ilk could publish their books after having left the continent. My story participants could knock on my door. The internet is real time and I am shocked at how many people read this drivel.

Here are my notes from my Pixvie trip, I’ll flesh them out later.

Almirante, village trip, drinks on the sewer, indian girls delivery, louis and the chinese restaurant, silence on the disposition of the indian girls.

Professor’s house.
No electricity, lights out.

Awakened 5:00
6:50 hit the water (what a bunch of jagoffs)
7:00 roosterfish
7:10 dolphins
7:25 fish on

cobalt blue water

816 people
200 work for the italian
166 in the elementary school
78 in junior high
no high school

Jorge owns the bouy

Road will reach Caledonia in 2011

Chester was honorary president of the carnival

Pargo, Salmon, Ensalada

—————
22-2

Up at 5
Hit water at 6:15
Had to go back for lures and gas, cigars

7:10 rod to walter
7:15 fish o
7:45 jim
8:08 steve big pargo
8:20 jim salmon

“Fish on, Coksuka”
8:25 chester rod to Steve, “fish on”
9:45 bonito, Jim Lieing

Chester Salmon

Green, to purple to milky blue mountains

all salmon gravid

11:00 illegible
11:30 eone

12:30 up hill

3:25 – 3:50 3:50 at river
200 meters accross mangrove

4:07 hill will palm

Snook and Corvina

Crab eating oons

4:20 turn around 15 more minutes to road

5:20 back

can’t raise cattle, sell for nothing

7:00 bar closed, evicted from kitchin

off tune singing

rain up at 6:00
dark show
no trace of rain
howler monkies
birds of many species chirped, twitter, illegible, warbled, whistled, parrots flew by.

great mango treets

cree cree cree

small waves surf sound

cofee coki 25 illegible water boiling

naked chicken with a patch of feathers

20′ shark in bay
5 pound octopus on head
whitefin shark babies
whales circling cayucas
giant grouper eats mans leg

smoke the tuna on pineapple mangrove

black with tiger stripes rapalla
Negro tales

Hostal Hosi
RUC 9-141-54

11:00 head out
Green on west slope dark on east.

12:30 illegible
12:45 bridge
12:55 Sona

Las Lajas
San Felix
Tole
Remedoios
6566-xxxx

Las Lajas & Pan American

4:30 Bus stop
4:45 where is my tilly?

Call Stephen, Chester

Fried Plantain

illegible

5:15 Guy comes and claims my seat they take panamanian stool out of his chair and give him a cushion in the aisle and then we leave.

phone call las lajas garritia viaja gnobe with cell

7:08 pull up first phone no change phone with indian

7:15 I’m the only one at bus stop gas station bar 50 meters bus stop accross street

google earth, christian , fresh squeezed orange juice, mabel

retirementdetective.com soy, sawdust, desicatted cat excrement, hut, picture, hot ass fucking walk, slate sand beach 150 meters until horizon

doug brown

9:00 at bus stop
9:10 on line no ticket
2 panamanians push

Reading The Old Patagonian expres

italian at the italian restaurant, roberto

unreal

nefarious columbian no rent

paid my 2.25

10:220 asked for bus to bocas took bus to changinoula

finished first chapter

evilly bad speakers, must be ripped clear accross the cone playing music that couldn’t be pleasant under the best of circumstances; horns and voices, like paper over a cone.

10:40 move outside window tray of sticky stuff

11:00 lost solo seat

dictionary

1:30 bigass indian next to me.

pull into almirante, cab, taxi, where are you staying? fuck you.

paint, website, wireless

I’m back in Bocas and have a great deal to post and many pictures to crop. I’ll try to catch up a little at a time. So much went on in the last two weeks it will take a while to post. Please be patient.

Thought I’d visit southeastern Chiriqui. Actually I was just following up on a promise to visit a couple that I met in Volcan. I’m really glad I came. Bocas can wait a couple of days.

I’m in Las Lajas, Chiriqui, two thirds of the way from Santiago to David on my way out of Pixvie, Veraguas which has been aptly defined as “a populated place on the Pacific side of Panama.”

Three days in Pixvie will require 8,000 words to come close to describing. I’ll have to wait until I get back to Bocas to articulate a reasonable approximation of the experience.

Rudy, my current host, has convinced me to stay here another day.

I now have the cooling of an electric fan, awesome. This town has electricity, paved roads and even internet. I am so spoiled.

Three of the four horse men arrived unceremoniously via Bocas Marine Tours shuttle as Taxi 25 was still out of operation. We waddeled,shuffled and slogged to our diesel steed and rode it to the crazed Columbian, Louis. Louis answers every question inimitably and evasively. It is difficult to discern whether he fails to comprehend the question or if he is a master of circumlocution and redirection. “I want to see the Bay from the Mountain.” “Do you want to see the gringo mansions?” “No, Louis, I want to see the FAAKING bay from the FAAKING mountain.” “Do you want to see the mansions?” I bang my head on the window. Chester, please, help me out here. “It is too late to call on the fincas, perhaps we should see the mansions.” Fuck me, with a stick, in the ass. Foot soup. Are you kidding me? Ahh shit, I’ll pay for it. Really? Pig Knuckles and salt broth. I have died and gone to hell. Louis, you have lived far too long.

We ascend the hills over Almirante, escaping the putrid, vile, trash laden town and become one with the rain forest. Bananas, cocoa, and mangos all live in harmony, houses are nestled nearly indiscernably in the jungle.

Near the end of the road is an immaculate Gnobe town. Not a piece of litter anywhere. Gnobe towns in general are filthy, with trash smolderong trash strewn everywhere.

The next stop is Walter at Rio Septico a human excrement sludge factory.

We are warmly greeted. This place smells like a toilet. Drinks. I kid you not, a fifth of rum, a cup of ice and a can of coke. We are going to die. Lois makes a phone call. A 20 year old round faced Gnobe shows up, then a spherical Gnobe. “Call my mama!” No way. These girls are not pros? I couldn’t do them for nothing.

The Chinese place was a trip, Louis banged on the tray, “these people are my clients” and he stormed out of the restaurant.

No more internet. Carnival starts tomorrow. Mahem. Catholics are debauched.