| Leaving
this place to complete abandonment as the government had already withdrawn
the troops a year before.
In said
year 1849, Bocas del Toro was added to the province of Panamá
in the form of the town of Veraguas and a Mr. Ruata from Panamá
came with troops and took possession. He was accompanied by a Sr. Napoleon
Benitez, a captain in the capacity of Political Chief. The customs continued
under his authority.
While the
office was vacant some lawless men who were here, seized the park, sent
him (Benitez) in an English ship to Cartagena, raised the Mosquita flag
and ejected several Colombians. When Sr. Ruata arrived the revolutionaries
had fled, but he, by conciliatory means, recalled them and they returned
to their homes.
As I read further
into the history of Bocas del Toro I discovered how it had originally received
its name:
The island
is seven leagues long and three and a half wide. Its name in the Old English
maps is the “Island of Colombus”; the one which is opposite is named
“Cristobal”; the opening to the sea is called “Bocas del Toro”. This is
in front of the town, where there is a rock, which seen from a distance
resembles a bull in the act of raising, and the Cape, which is near it,
is called “Cabo Toro”.
The history
was interesting to me because it meant there had been three African communities
that had come to Panamá rather than just two, which had been my
previous reading of Panamanian history. The first Africans to come to Panamá
had come with the original Spanish conquerors in the 1500s; they had escaped
slavery and set up towns deep in the Darien Jungle beyond the control of
the Spanish. These runaway slave communities were known in English as Maroon
communities and they were located far from Spanish settlements. The original
Africans were mostly Catholic and have experienced great social mobility
in Panamá through the years. The second wave of Africans came during
the building of the Canal with most coming from Jamaica, Barbados, Trinidad
and Tobago; they were mostly Protestant and lived with U.S. citizens in
the Canal Zone, they were very close to the U.S. community. The African
community in Bocas seems to have come during the early 19th century and
before and arrived from San Andres Island, now part of Colombia, and the
island of Provincia.
I thought about
this as we headed to Bocas on the short 50 minute flight from Panama City.
We arrived at about 11:00 in the morning on Isla Colon, the main island
in Bocas del Toro. When we arrived, the sun was shining bright and the
sky was blue and the water clear: I had been told by many people that it
rains a lot in Bocas so I was happy to arrive to sunshine. The first thing
I did was to go to sleep for a while – was tired as I had been up the night
before until 5:00 in the morning working. We were led to the hotel by some
locals who hang out at the airport and take people to hotels where they
get a small commission for giving the hotel a customer. Don’t be uptight
when they approach you in the airport and they mean you no harm; just want
to make some money by being good guides around town. There are lots of
hotels to choose from: just name the price you want to pay. Some of the
smaller hotels looked very nice and Isla Colon is filled with good restaurants.
The people of Bocas del Toro have good taste and they seem to know, based
on my limited experience, how to treat travelers and tourists. The houses
and shoppes have a nice Caribbean style; most are painted in bright pastel
colors. Our room at the Hotel Bocas del Toro was nice with a balcony
overlooking the sea; the view from the balcony was of the bay and the islands
that dot the bay. The surrounding area reminded me a lot of the Golfitios
area of Costa Rica; not a tamable place really, it would be too hard to
enclose and develop; the lay of the land isn’t made for it – I thought
it should be declared a national park.
I went to bed
by noon and slept heavy until 5:00 and then took some pictures and went
to drink, but we first took a walk around the town to look at some of the
old hotels and back streets that were very nice - some of the more affordable
hotels are located on the back streets. We walked around small cottages
that were tucked into tropical shade and painted an intense blue; the outside
of the houses were dotted with florescent tubes that were just being turned
on as we passed by. We stopped at an Indian restaurant where a couple sat
with a small dog. There was no one else around and there was still daylight;
it was 6:30 or 7:00pm and so we ordered: service was excellent and food
also. By the time we left the restaurant the place was packed.
We ate and
walked down to the local bar on the wrong side of main street which turned
out to be an Indian campesino bar that had lots of loud music and
rough cops. We were the only non-locals. The cops were walking by and flashing
their pen-lights across our faces as Gabi, Rosi and I tried to negotiate
our way through the drunks that were hitting on them or passing out over
me. The cops never said anything to us, never approached us and we had
good relations with the cops from the moment we arrived until we left.
We talked to one of the cops and he referred us to a bar called the Mondo
Tatiu, something like that. We had one short drink there as they were
closing and then headed to the Barco Hundido (Submerged Boat); there in
fact was a submerged boat under the bar. It was lit with spotlights, so
that you could see through the water to the wreck. But before we went to
the bar we took a swim in the ocean just behind the hotel; the ocean water
was also lit up so you could see the fish and floor of the ocean; the water
was clear like a clean pool. Back we went to the Barco Hundido, lots of
Panamanian reggae which I like in smaller doses; they needed a little jazz,
Brazilian, Deodato. The place was very crowded and made up of some locals
and lots of travelers or people who have moved to Bocas to stay. There
is a large expat community that is growing in Bocas. We left some time
late that night. We talked to some people and Rosi had to dance - she liked
it - with the Indian bartender who was rubbing himself as he jumped up
and down from the floor to mid-position to falling back. I sat there and
thought to myself: "I wonder how many 20-dollar bills there are on the
floor". As we left we passed the jail where everyone was calm and it sounded
as though a party was being hatched - Gabi said she had never seen a jail
where so many people were that calm and relaxed. Back to the room and we
crashed.
The next day
we got up and had lunch at one of the Italian pizzerias. Excellent pizza
not cheap for Panamanian prices, but fresh and very good. Then off on the
boat to Playa Zapatilla; there is a boat station on Isla Colon where you
can hire boats for the day, an absolute must in order to explore Bocas.
Nice ride out there and I hear the scuba diving near Zapatilla is great.
The beach was small, nice and pretty except some asshole, the local representative
for ANAM, which is the Panamanian natural resource agency wanted to charge
us 21 bucks to sit on the beach for an hour or two. And he was sure of
what he was doing. He had no identification that tied him to ANMAN, except
for a shirt with the logo, not enough for me. I wanted something more official.
He never produced it but he walked us off the island as well as the Spaniards
down the beach who also didn't want to pay - they were asked to pay $50.
In the end I thought it was probably the best thing. The island has a kind
of strange tension about it and this man from ANMAN was just showing us
how tension filled it could be.
We headed to
nearby Coral Cay, and had some beers in a restaurant that was built over
the water and watched rain clouds form far out to sea and then watched
as the clouds engulfed Zapatillas Islands in purple and blue rain. We raced
another boat back from Coral Cay as arcs of lighting criss-crossed the
sky to the north towards the Costa Rican border. It rained a little, though
the boat was covered in canvas and we arrived back a little damp and thirsty.
We headed to the small hotel bar and had some rum and cokes and caprinias.
We were sitting at the bar and having a good time, when some people from
Italy came in, and they were very nice people who were obviously having
a good time themselves, then in walked Marco Ameglio, a local politician
who I have always liked. He was cool, had a drink and a cigarette with
us, talked to Gabi and Rosi; he never said a word to me. I’ve not met many
Panamanian politicians, but on a limited level. And on that limited level
they have always been nice. The bureaucracy is another story, not so much
mean as “what the fuck is going on here”.
On Saturday
night we were told about a party that was taking place on the island of
Carenero which lies directly in front of Isla Colon. We went back to the
Indian
Campesino bar because we figured from there we could get
a ride across to Carenero where the party was taking place and we did achieve
that. When we got to Carenero we went in to a large bar/hall, there was
a small entrance fee, sat down and bought some beers. Everyone was facing
in one direction; people were sitting on folding chairs and there were
bleachers that went up to exposed light bulbs which lit up the surrounding
chicken wire and rough wood. I said to Gabi "this isn’t what we think"
and then we both looked up at the stage which was small, lit with a rough
spotlight; about eight feet above the stage and running half covered with
balloons were two half mooned shaped metal bars. Out came the strip dancers
and the sad-mess-of-an-experience, but what was most interesting were the
people in the surrounding crowd – native Indian men and their quiet reserved
and very stoic Indian wives. The wives were dressed in a very conservative
power suit-esque style. Think 1980s small town American power suit - wide
lapels and padded shoulders. As the girls threw their tops and shook their
torsos, yawn and yawn, the Indian women and men jumped up to look over
the heads of people in front of them and went oh shit, “Carajo, mira esta
Vaina.” “Look at that thing.” We stayed for only two beers and then got
off the island and went back to Isla Colon to the bar, Barco Hundido. We
met a crowd of Dutchmen who said they didn’t like the strip-dancing; they
thought it was going to be something else, I never found out what that
something might have been. The rain came late Saturday night and the next
day it was still rainy and cloudy. Gabi and I walked through town, I with
no umbrella or raincoat, rain on the skin after a long night felt good.
We walked in the back streets and jumped around mud pools. The flight out
took off at 4:30 and we were back in Panama City by 5:30.
Real Estate
In Bocas
One thing:
Title: does the land that you are selling me have title and get a lawyer
in Panama to investigate it. The lawyers in Panama are excellent; if you
think you want to come and buy get a good lawyer. What often happens in
a place like Bocas is that a person will sell the same piece of land to
many people, so that everyone is holding title but no one owns anything.
Now there are some real estate projects up and running in Bocas and they
might be O.K., but be legally covered before you pay.
Hotels:
http://www.puntacaracol.com/
http://www.passplanet.com/Panama/bocas_del_toro.htm
Other articles
by the author:
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