Romance blossoms in the Scottish Highlands

04 Wednesday Jul 2012

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A Scotland Rendezvous, chapter 3

“So tell me about your past relationships–the good, the bad and the ugly.”

That’s how we began our three-day road trip through the Scottish Highlands.

There wasn’t much to tell, really. I was 39 years old and over the last decade I’d kept a pretty good distance from any relationship for a variety of reasons that didn’t make sense when I really thought about it.

Steve, I’m certain, thought I was being coy when I explained that there wasn’t much to tell.

A lesson on the birds and the bees.  Well, maybe just the birds.

Just as I was going to ask him about his back story, he said, “Hey, do you mind if we stop by this bird refuge? I’ve always wanted to see it.

“A bird refuge?” I thought. “Can’t say I would ever stop to do that.”

And before I knew it, we had parked and then he was pulling out of the car trunk a tripod and scope.  He never really said anything about what he was going to be doing with the scope.  In fact, he was pretty quiet about it.  “Hmmm,”  I paused to think and take this all in.  “He’s got a scope.  He’s kind of the quiet type. We’re stopping at a bird refuge.” I was putting all the pieces together slowly.  ”This guy looks at birds?” Oh, the horror.

I played along.  We went into the visitor center, paid the donation and walked around, looking at the various dioramas of wetlands and birds. I was scanning the place looking for a gift shop that might have something I might identify with. Like a necklace. Or a tea cup.  But I didn’t see a gift shop.  “Just go with it,” I thought.

The host at the visitor center told us about a blind nearby where we could get a good look. At what, exactly, I wasn’t so sure.  Nevertheless, I just followed Steve and we went outside and walked along the path that led us to what looked like a dilapidated shed and sat there on the bench and looked out through narrow slats.

And that’s when he made his big move. I asked him, “Have you always wanted to do that?”

“Do what?” he asked sheepishly.

“Take a girl out in a blind and kiss her.”

And then there was a castle

After catching my breath following the bird refuge we made our way to the Dunnottar Castle in Aberdeenshire. I had never been to a castle before my time in Edinburgh the day before. But this one was even better–it was just sitting out there in the middle of nowhere for people to walk through.   For a mere £5 each we were able to meander through the ruins of the castle, even sneaking away to a private corner where Steve stole another kiss.

To tell people that I felt like I had been dreaming the entire experience is the world’s greatest understatement. But imagine this: What woman really gets to fly off with very little notice at the invitation of a stranger she had just met online and get kissed in a castle? And let me add this: And actually like the guy?

It had to be a dream, right? This was so not my life.

The pathway to the Dunnottar Castle, Aberdeenshire

View of a waterfall seen on our walk to the castle

Me with Dunnottar Castle in background,

Arranging for a romantic soundtrack in Inverness

The first day on the road was long I suppose, because we got as far as Inverness, the capital of the Scottish Highlands, all the way from Dundee and it was dark. It just didn’t feel like it was a long day. It wasn’t going too fast either, I must admit.  I think for the first time, I actually was trying to be in the experience and I wasn’t concerned with time at all. I had quit my job just before this trip and was starting at a new company the day after I was to return to the United States, so there really wasn’t anything pressing on my mind to distract me from what was taking place. No emails to check, no work to catch up on. I wasn’t attached to anything that would prevent me from letting everything happen to me. I could actually change the script of my life and write a new one.

We stayed at the Holiday Inn in Inverness, had dinner at a restaurant next door and rose early to get back on the road again. By this time it had occurred to me that Steve brought no music with him on the trip.  For me, you can’t go on a road trip without a proper road music and so I said, “Hey let me pick out some CDs for you,” and we popped into a store. Now since I couldn’t help but be romantic, I collected all the necessary artists for the perfect soundtrack for this new script.  Thank you Diana Krall, Michael Bublé and Steve Tyrell.

Yes, I have my ways.

Go on to the next chapter.

 

Walking solo in Edinburgh

27 Wednesday Jun 2012

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A Scotland Rendezous, Chapter 2

“Start at Edinburgh Castle,” he said, “and then you can walk down this road, called The Royal Mile, to Holyrood Palace.”

I learned that during my first full day in Scotland, Steve, the stranger I flew across the ocean to see, was going to have to attend an all-day lecture at the University of Dundee. But he had already decided that a day trip to Edinburgh by train was a swell solution for me so he drew a little map, outlining the route I should take. I didn’t mind, really. I kind of like being a solo traveler. Besides, it gave me some time to think–think about this man I had just met. Think about this country I just landed in. Think about how this was all going to end after five days.

Oh, and the train ride gave me time to text each of my girlfriends, “Everything going SUPER! Will give details when I get home.”

Natch.

Edinburgh, Scotland

As I disembarked the train it took me awhile to orient myself. For April it was lovely–sunny and warm and not at all what I expected for Scotland. (I expected gloomy weather. That much I did know about Scotland.) There was the token bagpiper on the corner for tourists and every building looked as though it was ancient. Probably because they all were. I almost feel a little ashamed sometimes that I come from a country that is really in its infancy compared to other areas of the world where everything is all about being shiny and new.

Edinburgh Castle

Edinburgh Castle

I couldn’t miss the Edinburgh Castle if I had tried. It looks over the city from Castle Rock letting me know that it’s still in charge. I took my time touring the castle, and took advantage of the headphones so I could learn more about not just the castle but about Scotland, since I came so unprepared.

Calling it a Castle is really a misnomer–it’s actually a fortress and includes several buildings. When I arrived at St. Margaret’s Chapel–a simple building within the walls of the fortress I actually sat on one of the benches for quite a long time. The chapel is still used for ceremonies, such as weddings, and is the one building that felt like there was life still in it. Of course, should any building feel that way, a church would, I suppose. Sitting there I tried to make sense of where I was and how I got there. If any place was going to help me figure everything out a church certainly would. After about 20 minutes and not getting any closer to making sense of it all, I thought, Just go with it. Don’t worry about it.

And that’s what I did.

Calling this a gun seems so understated.

Walking along Royal Mile

After a nice lunch at a cafe I then made my way down the cobblestone Royal Mile, descending the hill and stopping in the little shops that carried tartan wellies, tartan skirts and tartan shawls.

It wasn’t just all tartan. There was orange marmalade and shortbread cookies of course, so I bought a cookie and munched on it as I made my way to Holyrood. Clearly the street is designed for tourists and, well, I was a tourist that day. And I like shortbread cookies.

Holyrood Palace or HolyroodHouse

A little less hectic than the Ediburgh Castle. Fewer tourists and I was half expecting the Queen to make an appearance at any time. The palace buildings are a mish-mash of well-maintained buildings ranging from ancient to really ancient.

Holyrood Palace

Holyrood Palace

After the tour I looked at my watch and realized that I needed to catch the train back to Dundee. These are the moments when I’m traveling alone where I have to admit I’m rather proud of myself that I can navigate my way around, in spite of the fact that I usually don’t get it right the first time. This was one of those times. I found myself on the wrong platform and nearly ended up on my way to London. Thank goodness I wasn’t in a rush. Before I crossed over the “Mind the Gap” warning, I made sure I was on the right train back to Dundee where my new long-distance romance was waiting for me.

Go on to the next chapter.

 

Finding love through travel

21 Thursday Jun 2012

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Never in my entire life did I think this was going to happen to me. If you had told me before it happened that it was going to change my life (let alone do it) I would have laughed at you.

But it happened. It really did. I did the most epic thing that a woman could do: I quit my corporate job over the phone and then 20 minutes later booked a flight to Scotland to rendezvous with a man I had only met online six weeks before.

Me in Scotland. Wonder why I have that big grin on my face?

If you’re a woman, admit it. You’ve always wanted to do this. If you’re a man, well, yes, we women dream about these sorts of things. It always happens in movies or to people other people know. But this time it was happening to me.

[Enter swelling Ennio Morricone soundtrack]

I write about this today because this past week I stumbled on two thought-provoking blogs that address love and travel, both which caused me to pause and wonder what I could add to the topic. Spencer Spellman’s Lessons in Love: Perspective Found through Travel shares with gut-wrenching honesty about how travel has allowed him to rediscover himself after divorce. And it was a retweet from Spellman, himself, that directed me to the Blonde Abroad‘s post from last May, A Life of Travel and Relationships. Kiersten Rich, the Blonde Abroad, writes of the challenge of traveling and relationships, but explains that her dream right now is what she’s living: that travel is the best gift she can give herself.

I wish I could have found travel much earlier in life. But alas, I’m late to the party. I’m no Spencer Spellman or Blonde Abroad. I didn’t even have a passport until I was 30 where I took my first trip to Rome with my mother for a weekend. (Yes, you read that correctly: a weekend. Long story. Later post. Promise.)

The funny thing about travel is that when you deeply discover it–when you turn vacation into travel, it creates a moment of epiphany. Perhaps it’s the exploration of new places that enables you to explore your own soul. For me, that epiphany was when I woke up one day and decided at age 39 that it was time to figure out what I needed to be happy.

I said countless times I would never fly across the ocean to meet someone online. But I did.

I also remember saying that I would never be in a long-distance relationship. But I did end up doing that–for two years.

We rendezvoused in Scotland, London and Bath England, Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon National Park, Grand Canyon National Park, Moab National Park (yes there’s a theme here), Niagara Falls, Toronto, Calgary, Costa Rica, Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, Banff National Park, Jasper National Park and my home in Salt Lake City, Utah where this long-distance suitor introduced me to Antelope Island, where I had never been to before, but was right in my own back yard.

A rendezvous at Niagara Falls. So cliche, I know. But we’re loving it.

The thrill of travel exploded exponentially every time I boarded a plane. The thought of meeting up with my long-distance suitor was like putting a filter on my camera lens that would help me look at these places a little differently while also adding a little extra color to the whole picture.

For me, I couldn’t have done this in my twenties or even my thirties. I wasn’t ready for it. My forties seems to be for me the right time to find love and a companion. And I did marry that long-distance suitor after two years of courtship amid obstacles of miles between us, an ocean separating us at times and inconvenient time zones.

Our wedding day. Steve was in the Royal Canadian Army, hence the swoon-worthy uniform.

I know it’s possible to intermingle love and travel. I’m lucky and I know it. I was willing to throw out all those things I said I’d never do and I just went for it. Getting on that plane to Scotland is admittedly the bravest thing I had ever done in my life up to this point. And guess what–we still travel like crazy. It’s the DNA in our marriage and we have passport stamps to prove it.

So through travel and in finding someone else I actually found myself. It’s a little bit different route than Spellman’s or Rich’s, but I think we all get there somehow on the same train called “travel.”

Aside

Finding the Right Guide is No Accident: Interview with a Panamanian Bird Guide

10 Sunday Jun 2012

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Here’s an interview with Beny Wilson, which I wrote for my other Blog, Accidental Birder. Beny is a fantastic guide and read here his story of how he started birding through an inebriated neighbor, how he learned that by staying back to help an 81-year-old who couldn’t keep up brought him great emotion, and why he feels hiring local guides over international guides is important. He’s a great story teller and makes my job as an interviewer easy. Thought you would enjoy!

Click here to go to the story: Finding the Right Guide is No Accident: Interview with a Panamanian Bird Guide.

Beny Wilson, Panamanian Bird Guide

Via Finding the Right Guide is No Accident: Interview with a Panamanian Bird Guide.

A Scotland Rendezvous

07 Thursday Jun 2012

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A Scotland Rendezvous, Chapter 1

As the plane was lifting off from the Charles de Gaulle tarmac–my second connection on this trip–I thought,  “Well, there’s no going back now.”  Actually, that was the exact thought I had when the plane left my connection in Cincinnati. And the same thought when the wheels came up when leaving my home town in Salt Lake City the day before.  Three times I had the opportunity to bolt and I didn’t.

I was heading to Scotland–a country that wasn’t even on my bucket list. Pretty much all I really knew about Scotland was shortbread cookies, kilts and Highland dancing. I hadn’t even seen Braveheart and I wished I would have studied up on the country before this trip, but it was sudden. In fact everything about this trip was sudden.

I leaned against the window and looked out at rainy Paris thinking about how I can’t turn back when the man in the middle seat next to me asked, “Are you going home or visiting?”

“I’m visiting.”

“Seeing friends there?” he asked.

“Well, not exactly,” I fessed up. “I’m actually rendezvousing with a man I met online.  We’re meeting in person for the first time.”

The other man on our row who I now realized was traveling with middle-seat man then joined in the conversation.  “Oh, that is so Carrie Bradshaw! I want to hear!”

Even though my life wasn’t exactly–okay, not even close to–Sex and the City, I went on to explain how over the past six weeks I had been corresponding with a Canadian man who was studying at the University of Dundee.

Telling my story to my seat mates helped lessen my anxiety, but only until I landed. I nervously went through Immigration and Customs and then I stopped by the Ladies Room and checked my makeup, brushed my teeth and then looked in the mirror one more time and took a deep breath. I wondered what was going to happen next.  Was he going to  like me? Was he going to be disappointed?

I finally mustered up my courage and made my way toward the doors where I exit immigration, leading to where loved ones meet and where my Internet suitor would be. Standing there I thought, “Now my life is going to change.”

I looked for him.  I couldn’t see anyone who resembled the photo I had seen online. I stood there, knowing that I just needed to be patient.  This is not something to rush into. Then I thought, “Shouldn’t there be music swelling just about now?” At least that’s what I thought because isn’t that what happens in every movie with Julia Roberts?

And then I saw him–a man rushing in as though he was missing his train. He had flowers in hand and we both recognized each other from our pictures. We gave a stilted hug, chatted about the long flight, then he grabbed my bag and we walked out to his car.

His name was Steve and he drove me from Edinburgh to Dundee while we nervously talked as I looked out the window, which would normally be the driver’s side where I come from, but Scotland is one of those countries where they drive on the left.

Sheep in Scotland

I was taking in the timbre of his voice and noticed how Scotland looks just as I imagined:  Rolling green hills and the occasional sheep. When I write I always try to avoid the cliche, but when I travel I always feel satisfied when I run into the cliche, so that I know I’m not lost and have landed exactly where I intended.

We eventually arrived at his flat and he took my bags upstairs. It was Easter Sunday and the church bells were ringing all over Dundee. Or maybe that was my movie-script version of what was happening with me. I was smitten.

Go on to the next chapter.

Aye! Bring out the pipers!

28 Monday May 2012

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I’m rather lucky. My next door neighbor is a cemetery. And yes, as the saying goes, they make quiet neighbors.

A few days ago I noticed that they were preparing for the Memorial holiday weekend. This year they have a Field of Honor recognizing those who had given their lives in time of war. I’d say, as far as cemeteries go, the little one we have next door sure knows how to dress it up for Memorial Day.

Every year at this time my husband and I also have the pleasure of hearing bagpipes throughout Memorial Weekend, as the cemetery has pipers queued up every hour. We keep the doors and windows open so the sound of the pipes waft through our home. Or as Steve did today, sit out on the deck and review some paperwork while listening to the pipes.

We love bagpipes for a variety of reasons.  We met in Scotland, the land of bagpipes, and we had bagpipes on our wedding day (natch), so having three full days of pipes as we listen on our back deck is a treat, especially when they play Scotland the Brave (Steve’s regiment song from his Royal Canadian Army days) and Highland Cathedral–both which were played on our wedding day.

Oh, and I’ll throw in here that I just adore the movie, Brigadoon.

But on Monday we pause and not think of our wedding day or our romantic rendezvous in Scotland or even a Gene Kelly movie.  We reflect on the memory of all of those who have fought for freedom and died for us–whether American or Canadian.

See? We wave both flags in front of our home.

The art of juicing and then screwing it up later.

10 Thursday May 2012

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A quick post about juicing.

Yes, we got a juicer. Steve bought it for me for our wedding anniversary last month.

Breville Juicer

So far, this is my favorite drink.

Green drink

Kale, cucumber, green apple, celery and ginger. Steve makes it for me in the morning before work and when I come downstairs it smells like he’s mowed the lawn in the kitchen. (I love that smell.)

And this is my second-favorite drink (a close runner up):

Carrot, orange and ginger (with 1/2 lemon).

Am I healthier? I’m ashamed to say, “not really.” Somehow I’ve got to quit the habit of buying Pop Tarts from the vending machine at work around 2:00.

I kind of feel like those people I’ve seen smoking outside the gym after a workout. I’m just like them.

Oh, for Pete’s sake. (sigh)

Conquering the post-vacation blues

16 Monday Apr 2012

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It happens.

You have a fantastic two-week adventure, trying new foods, meeting new people, getting immersed in the culture, chasing birds (okay, maybe that’s just us), and you come home and BOOM! You’re back at the office digging out of mounds of email and at home going through piles of regular mail you had the post office hold for you so you could be reminded  of the dull things in life like paying medical bills and reading letters promising you better car insurance coverage.

It’s all just so…ordinary.

I travel for two reasons:  For escape and for opening up my world to new experiences, and that’s why I generally have another trip in the queue.  Well, that’s usually the case.  Somehow this time around I was so crushed with other things going on (called “Life”) before our Panama trip that I didn’t have another trip planned before we left.

Egads.  What that means is that when I looked at my cute little (free) “Countdown” app on my iPhone I had nothing in it.  Or as my newly-found Panamanian friends would say, “nada.”

Same goes for my “Fly Delta” app.  There wasn’t a trip in there.  Not even a business trip. My apps were empty and I was feeling the same way.

It got insanely busy at work the moment I arrived back at the office and I was prepared for it. The ordinary life can be draining. That’s not to say that my travels are all about lying on the beach sipping umbrella drinks and reading a book. In fact, you probably won’t ever find Steve and I doing that except maybe after a long flight or at the very end of the trip when we’re just so tuckered out we can barely move.  We don’t scale mountains, but we are both maximizers and we’re up very early in the mornings to chase after birds or get into the water to go diving. We’re on our feet all day when we’re birding and all that hiking–especially in the heat and humidity–often takes a lot out of us. It makes you feel your age very quickly. In fact, after this last vacation we fell into that category of folks who insist on needing a vacation to recover from vacation.

So here I was back at home, all cleaned up and in my own bed and all I could think about were those apps on my iPhone.  I had no trip planned.  It was that same feeling I had in college when I hadn’t declared my major.  It’s the not knowing what was next or what journey I was going to have. Or right after you get married. You come home from the honeymoon and not only is life not centered around you anymore (admittedly, I missed that a lot), but what the heck do you plan for now? Everything before the wedding was all about planning the big event and now that you’re back there’s no more planning. No more obsessing. No more researching.

I’m a planner at heart and I didn’t have anything planned. Was I just to keep going to the office every day with nothing to look forward to? Was I going to just hope that some adventure falls into my lap? What was I going to research now? After nine days back at home I stayed up late one evening after a long day at the office and booked our next trip. I couldn’t take it any longer.

So, the “Fly Delta” and “Countdown” apps both show a trip to Hawaii in our future this year.

Today’s lesson: Always have a trip in the queue and your life won’t seem so ordinary.

(Note: Links on this page are linking you back to relevant posts on my other blog, The Accidental Birder.  You can also get to that blog by clicking the Accidental Birder tab in the menu above.)

Panama Birding

26 Monday Mar 2012

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For those of you following both my blogs this is also posted at the Accidental Birder blog. For those of you only following this blog this will update you on our day yesterday in Certo Punta. Enjoy!

Ms. Boice's avatarThe Accidental Birder

It was a big day of birding today. We had breakfast at 6:30 then met our guide, Ito, and headed just up the road past where we are staying to the cabins, also owned by Los Quetzales Lodge. We took Ito’s truck since our little Hyundai SUV hybrid couldn’t make it on the treacherous road going up the mountain.

I have to say this was probably the worst road I’d ever been on. Ito took it very slowly and thank goodness he did. I thought we just might not make it out of there in one piece. It was a rocky ride both up and down.

Would love to give more details and be able to edit and post some more photos but we have a 5:30 start in the morning and I’m going to have to call it an early night.

Buenos noches everyone.
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Journey from Bocas del Toro to Changuinola, Panama

23 Friday Mar 2012

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I’m writing this post on a very hard bed in a $30/night “hotel” in the town of Changuinola, Panama. If you’ve ever eaten a Chiquita banana it likely came from Changuinola.

Those of you who know me well know that #1 I would never be at a $30/night hotel, and #2 if I were, I likely would not admit it. Let me explain how we got here.

We were supposed to check out of our hotel at Bocas del Toro tomorrow, but realized that we should probably get to Changuinola earlier so we could pick up our car to drive the 4-5 hour journey to our next stop at Los Quetzales Lodge in Guadalupe, near the Boquette volcano area to begin the birding portion of our Panama adventure. Turns out, no matter how much research one does ahead of time, you really don’t know how things really work until you get there. After a couple of days on the island and with a little bit of intel from locals we figured we should get to Changuinola a day earlier to get our car and make the drive through the mountains so we didn’t have to search for the Lodge in the dark.

Just after checking out of Playa Tortuga–our Bocas accommodations–it began to rain. No, correct that–it was a downpour. 20120323-173910.jpg

I almost aborted our dive plans today because of the rain. No, I’m not chicken. It’s just that I get easily chilled on the boat when I can’t get dry. (Blame the whole scleroderma / reynaud’s thing I’ve got going on.) But I’m glad I did the dives anyway. It was warm in the water and Panama–Bocas del Toro in particular–is a great place for beginner divers, which I still consider myself. (I only had 30 dives under my belt when I arrived. Now I have 36!)

The water here is calm and tranquil. I took advantage of that and practiced putting on my BCD in the water rather than strapping it and the tank onto me in the boat. I actually like the backward roll off a boat, but I hate standing with that tank and BCD. Not sure I could to the BCD thing in the water at othr places. Sometimes the water is just a little too rocky for me. But in Panama it was nice.

Visibility in the water is not spectacular. It’s no Belize or Cozumel, that’s for sure, but I saw some new species, including loads of star fish, trumpet fish and squid.

The other good thing about diving in Bocas is that it’s so economical. We paid only $54 pp for a two-tank dive. Plus, the boats are smaller, which means fewer people/divers in your group. The attention you get is so much more personal. We dove all three days with Bocas Water Sports. Loved them! They’re a PADI operation and the owner, John, from the States, is a hoot.

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We had lunch at Under the Palm Restaurant after our dives. If you’re ever at Bocas del Toro I highly recommend it.
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It was away from Hostel Row and the food was pretty darn good and it was quiet. It also has the most awesome bathroom in town with really soft, Charmin-like toilet paper.

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Following lunch we made our way to the water taxi to get back to the mainland. Water taxis are pretty cheap–only $5 pp. I was a little worried that our luggage at the very back was going to fly off at any moment. Not sure it was strapped down. Wondered what I would do if it did end up in the ocean. Trying not to worry, I turned my attention to the mangroves and the occasional motorized canoe going by. (At one point, I spotted a little family of three in their canoe. Mom was in the front paddling and older brother in the back paddling while little sister was in the middle with a little white bucket bailing out water. Not a good sign.)

As soon as the water taxi arrived at Almarante we were met by three very enterprising young men, about 16 years or so who asked us if we needed a taxi and as soon as we said yes, each grabbed one of our bags and started walking. “We’ll get you a taxi,” one of them said.

We obediently followed the three on a gravel road for about five yards, then one of the young men hollered to a yellow taxi, which was about 30 yards away and about to go another direction, but he backed up and then drove toward us. Like little worker bees, the young men dumped our luggage in the trunk of the car and I gave then each a $1 tip for their help. Quite the little operation they got going there.

Off we go! It was to be about a 40 minute drive to Changuinola and only costs $20 by taxi. Bargain. Except as soon as I got in, I noticed no seat belts. I was hoping that we didn’t need them, but this wasn’t my first time as a passenger in a Panamanian taxi. Hence my nerves. The drive was hilly and thank goodness the road was good, even if the drivers weren’t. For awhile there I thought I was living the real life version of my favorite app game, “Tiny Wings,” and resisted the temptation to yell out, “Wa Hoooooooo!”

At one point, it began to rain pretty seriously and so our driver pulled over and reached into his glove compartment to pull out a wrench. “Holy cow,” I thought. He’s going to kill us Clue style or the car is dead. Just roll with it.”

Glad I rolled. Turns out the only way to get the windows up was by wrench. He opened my door and where there was no handle crank to roll up the window he used the wrench to turn the little piece of protruding metal so the window would go up. “Automatic windows!” he exclaimed.

Ha Ha! His car might be a piece of crap, but he’s got a sense of humor about it. I should too. (Though I have to tell you that as we descended from every hill I was praying they guy’s brakes were working.)

He made his way around the car and did the same for Steve’s window. Okay, so now it will be warm in the car (no air conditioning, natch), but hey, the guy made sure we didn’t get wet. He deserves a good tip!

Our driver did get us to our hotel in Changuinola safely and I did give him a good tip. We chose the hotel because it was where the Avis rental car company is. We would stay the night here and then leave first thing in the morning with our car for our long drive to Los Quetzales Lodge.

Turns out, Avis, in spite of my initial confirmation upon booking several weeks ago and second confirmation from them via email just 3 days ago, there is no car. There’s an Avis representative, but he has no cars. (What the what?)

SO glad we left Bocas to get here a day earlier. Otherwise, we’d be in a world of hurt. Turns out, there’s a bus that goes to David City, where there’s an airport and it’s just outside of where our next accommodations are, so the agent here (who clearly has nothing else to do since he has no cars) called David City Avis and got us a car booked. Well, fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting on a very hard bed (it seems to be a foam mattress on plywood) writing as our scuba gear and swimsuits dry out–we have it all hanging around the room, so we look very third-world ourselves and Steve is sleeping/snoring while I type and eat a package of Chips Ahoy cookies. The air conditioner is so loud that it’s actually drowning out Steve’s snoring and I can’t help but be amused by the wall art in our room.
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Why a $30 hotel? Folks, it’s truly the best place in town. We had no choice and remember, we’re not in Panama City. Changuinola is still pretty third-world. Maybe second-world at best. All I care about right now is that we got here in one piece, we have a place to sleep, we have transportation via bus to David City and we have a rental car waiting for us there. I do know that Los Quetzales lodge has a spa. I’m so booking a massage once I get there.

Now time to watch “Hillbilly Handfishin'” in Espanol on the telly (“Pescadores Lunes!”) Seems to be all that’s on. I’m just rollin’ with it.