A goat blocking the road into town
Mid-September, 2016
September means Sea Fiesta in Bocas. Every town of any size in Panama holds some sort of festival. I never did figure out what the locals were celebrating, but they held a week long party.
The road into town was closed off and we drove on the beach to get around the festival and go into town. Driving on the beach was no problem. Someone had taken a road grader and made a hard track for us.
When we went in the morning, there were few people and no problem. Wes and I went into town on Sunday afternoon and the beach was littered with people, most of them tipsy. It took us at least twenty minutes to negotiate the stretch that we usually drove in three minutes or so. The people have absolutely no awareness of automobiles. It’s this way on the street too.
They go walking down the middle of the street, or in this case, standing on the paved track and pay no attention to traffic. It’s up to the drivers to not plow into them. I’m surprised that with all the alcohol flowing, no one got hurt.
The ex-pats, for the most part, avoid the fiesta. Most of the people we know went into town the weekend before the party and stocked up on all the groceries they needed so they wouldn’t have to go into town during the party.
Let’s get back to the beach. While the north end of the island, where we live, has the most pristine beaches you’ve ever seen, not so on the south side. Yes, there are long, wide beaches, but they are black with rotting vegetation. For some reason, on this side of the island, huge quantities of sea grass wash up on the beach. They sit there and rot in the sun, giving the beach a most unpleasant odor.
In La Paz they have a similar phenomenon, but they have hordes of people cleaning the beach every morning. Thus, they have beautiful beaches.
Here it’s all very icky. However, during the festival, bunches of people were swimming on these beaches. I can’t imagine going in the water there. Yuck!
The Panamanians seem to be a modest people. In town, while the foreigners are walking around in next to no clothing, the Panamanians wear long skirts, loose blouses and long pants. It’s hard to find a Panamanian even wearing shorts, except for maybe the teenagers.
Finally I got to see lots of lovely young ladies running around in their bikinis. During the fiesta, the rules seem to disappear and all sorts of Panamanian women, some who should not be wearing skimpy clothing, took off the wraps.
September means Sea Fiesta in Bocas. Every town of any size in Panama holds some sort of festival. I never did figure out what the locals were celebrating, but they held a week long party.
The road into town was closed off and we drove on the beach to get around the festival and go into town. Driving on the beach was no problem. Someone had taken a road grader and made a hard track for us.
When we went in the morning, there were few people and no problem. Wes and I went into town on Sunday afternoon and the beach was littered with people, most of them tipsy. It took us at least twenty minutes to negotiate the stretch that we usually drove in three minutes or so. The people have absolutely no awareness of automobiles. It’s this way on the street too.
They go walking down the middle of the street, or in this case, standing on the paved track and pay no attention to traffic. It’s up to the drivers to not plow into them. I’m surprised that with all the alcohol flowing, no one got hurt.
The ex-pats, for the most part, avoid the fiesta. Most of the people we know went into town the weekend before the party and stocked up on all the groceries they needed so they wouldn’t have to go into town during the party.
Let’s get back to the beach. While the north end of the island, where we live, has the most pristine beaches you’ve ever seen, not so on the south side. Yes, there are long, wide beaches, but they are black with rotting vegetation. For some reason, on this side of the island, huge quantities of sea grass wash up on the beach. They sit there and rot in the sun, giving the beach a most unpleasant odor.
In La Paz they have a similar phenomenon, but they have hordes of people cleaning the beach every morning. Thus, they have beautiful beaches.
Here it’s all very icky. However, during the festival, bunches of people were swimming on these beaches. I can’t imagine going in the water there. Yuck!
The Panamanians seem to be a modest people. In town, while the foreigners are walking around in next to no clothing, the Panamanians wear long skirts, loose blouses and long pants. It’s hard to find a Panamanian even wearing shorts, except for maybe the teenagers.
Finally I got to see lots of lovely young ladies running around in their bikinis. During the fiesta, the rules seem to disappear and all sorts of Panamanian women, some who should not be wearing skimpy clothing, took off the wraps.
Yes, we have lizards in Panama too
On the way into town during the festival, the police had a road block. They stopped every vehicle either entering or leaving and checked for driver’s licenses, registration and proof of insurance.
When they stopped me and asked for my driver’s license, I handed them my Cali license. It should be no problem, right? After all, foreigners are allowed to drive on their local driver’s licenses.
Wrong-O! Apparently foreigners are only allowed to drive on their own licenses for ninety days. I had been in Panama for over three months.
After I forked over my driver’s license, they asked me for my passport. The stamp on it showed when I entered the country. After several minutes doing the math, the officer called over his supervisor.
The supervisor explained the problem to me. The officer wanted to take me to the police station for questioning.
I explained that I didn’t know about this law and was headed to the airport to buy my ticket to leave the country, which was true.
The supervisor called over a higher ranking official, they went away and discussed the matter, then called someone on a cell phone. I sat there stewing, sure that I was about to experience the inside of a Panamanian jail cell first hand.
Finally, the senior officer came over and gave me my passport and license back.
“You make sure you get your plane ticket and don’t drive anymore while you are still in the country,” he chastised.
With my tail between my legs I drove on.
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