Last night a belly full of sweet curried seafood lulled me into Panamanian dreamland. I dreamt of living in small carpeted apartments, broken guitar strings and tumultuous situations involving clothing and hearts. We awoke early to catch a boat ride to some fancy snorkel spots. Our boat captain - Maximo - an Afro-Caribbean man with impressive gold teeth, a giant belly and a kind twinkle in his left eye charted our sunburnt foreheads to some of his favorite spots. When he spoke I did plenty of nodding and smiling to make him believe I understood. The water was a tad murky on the first stop and little jellyfish pieces were nibbling at my hind, so we opted to move on to "Hospital Point" (where supposedly there was at one time, you guessed it, a hospital). Here I saw a giant barracuda (I'll call him Glen) an eagle ray (I'll call her Susan) two round glowing jellyfish (Wanda and Pollyana), parrot fish (too many to name), and a myriad of other colorful fish that were all feasting on coral. My eyes juggled in all directions, I flipped and whirled with the waves, I swallowed a cup and a half of salty water. After playing like fish, we headed back to Isla Bastemientos for some local lobster, lentils, coconut rice, sauteed peppers and some of the tangiest yellow hot sauce my tongues ever lapped up. In the peripheries, kids held a small diving competition, two young men pounded plastic shoes to Latin Jazz, battered dogs barked at at warrior roosters. My man and I rolled dice on a small tree stump table until I accidentally rolled one into the sea (I lost). Maximo came back to pick us up in his partially styrofoam boat. As we sailed back, I watched the clouds roll over the mountains into Bocas Town. Later, as we made our way back to the little cabana on our fat tire bikes, it began to rain. And here I am, writing in the rain about the rain.
Ah, but now it has stopped. I must go to to the jungle to seek out sloths.