Leaving Las Lajas: Part 1
Las Lajas, Panama, March 7, 2003
 After
several more incredible days at Las Lajas, Panama I
had to leave. Miguel and his son Tibney asked me when
I would be coming back. I told them I might be back
next year when snow comes to Canada.
The next morning I rose with the sun breaking over clouded mountains in the east. With bags packed and my travelling shoes on, I said goodbye to Victor and set out on the return journey to Canada.
I walked along the beach to the road leading out and sat down in the shade to wait for a ride. I was not going to walk the 14 kilometers to town with my pack. I waited. I waited some more. The morning was starting out slow but I was not in a hurry. An hour later I thought about walking but told myself it was too hot. I waited some more.
Antonio came down the road on horseback from the direction I was headed. He said he was going to the ranch where he has worked for the past 50 years. He did not look 72 years old. After he left I thought about age, work and ability. I thought about how my culture retires people at age 65, more for economic reasons than for ability. For some people retirement is not an option.
For some people retirement is an option they do not even want. I have
2 uncles in Canada that continue to work the original
homestead of my grandparents. Both Pete and Orest are
in their 70's. They could easily retire but it is their
entire life. How do you retire from your life?
 I
am still on the road arguing with myself on whether
I should walk or wait when I see Gabriel coming from
the direction of the beach. He has a sack slung over
his shoulder and he walks with a limp. He is going to
town to sell some things. "It is a long walk and my
pack is heavy so I will wait for a ride," I say.
He smiles in agreement and labours on under his own load. I study him as
he goes. Sandals, white peasant pants, 4 pocket, Panama
shirt and an old, crumpled, straw hat to keep the sun
off of his face. He is 78 years old. The longer I watch
him, the more ridiculous I feel about my decision to
wait for a ride. It would be nice to have company for
the walk. I pick up my pack and follow behind him.
A short while later a car speeds past full of young,
affluent tourists. Guys in the front and girls in the
back. I thought they did not see my outstretched thumb
but then the car slows at the next bend and turns around.
A change of heart, most certainly induced by the girls
in the back.
The driver jumps out and starts talking to me while
ignoring Gabriel the elder of us all. He motions for
me to get in but I see there is not enough room for
all and so I ask him if he would be so kind as to give
my friend a ride and I would walk. Gabriel is already
getting in the car, smiling, while the driver is standing
there with his mouth open. The girls in the back smile
and wave as they leave. I smile and wave back. Soon
after this a taxi driver comes by and charges me 1/3
of the fare because I have walked so far. He takes me
to the village near the Pan-American highway. I gladly
get on a bus that is headed for the city of David where
I will catch a bus to the Costa Rican border.
By the time I reach the border, the morning has become the afternoon. I want to be well into Costa Rica by night fall but none of the nearby towns appeal to me and the bus does not leave until 6 p.m. Well, I did not come this far to sit and wait.
Once more I put out my thumb in front of the fairly steady stream of cars
heading north. Within a few minutes a small, sporty
car pulls over and I am enjoying the company of 3 young
soccer players on their way home from a game. Esteban,
Carlos and Jaime all live close to a beach called Playa
Tortuga about 3 hours away. They say that there is camping
and offer to take me there. That sounds fine by me and
so we are off to Playa Tortuga in an air conditioned
sports car with American rock blasting out of the radio.
We pull off the highway onto a small road going down towards a light at the end of the driveway. The highway continues on into the blackness past a small bar and open-air restaurant. I step out of the car and am instantly drenched from the intense humidity and heat. This is something new. Humidity has never been a big problem on this journey. A woman arrives from a nearby house and shows me where I can place my tent.
 Something
feels strangely new about this place but I can not see
anything because it is the new moon. I am also tired
and hungry. I go to the restaurant up the road and order
some food. I chat with a truck driver from Nicaragua.
Only later do I realize he was offering me a ride to
the Nicaraguan border. That is how tired I was. I head
back to camp and finally get some sleep amidst the howling
monkeys, slithering snakes and crocodiles by the river's
edge.
Next: Leaving Las
Lajas Part 2
Previous entry:
Carnival in Dolega,
Martijn's Art Journal and Flowers in Boquete
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