Drum Roll Please

We were beginning to think our search for a home would never end - though perhaps we were wrong. Now it appears it will end.  In fact it may have already ended.

The winner may be Santa Fe, a charming (though undeveloped) mountain town in the Veraguas region of western Panama, pretty much halfway between the Caribbean coast and the Pacific Ocean.

So far we've been here a week during which time have experienced such warm relationships with our fellow travelers (you know who you are) and also with the local people. THIS feeling is what we have been seeking, and this is the place where it has happened.

Plus the climate is right for us, much better than the humid hot coastal areas and the dripping cloud forest jungles we have hiked.

Yep, several times we've hiked up into the jungle to see various waterfalls. We swam in the river. We had lunch with Chon and toured his organic farm and his wife's orchid collection.

We sat around the hostel in the evenings swapping stories with other travelers, other seekers. These are our people, and we have enjoyed their company immensely.

But now we're leaving this place, moving on to Boquete, only 100 km to the west, but a 4 hour drive on the roads. Boquete is a town that was discovered by North Americans about 10 years ago and reputedly seems like a little America. Not really our kind of place, but we need to see and feel it before we can come back to Santa Fe. We need to be sure before proceeding to set up camp in Santa Fe.

It feels so strange to think that our search may be over. I have never in my life thought that Panama is a place I might call home.

But I might do just that.

Stopping our travels makes me feel weird.

Santa Fe makes Starr feel really happy.

The local people here have not been trampled by tourism.

Veraguas region makes their own version of the Panama hat.

I really like this wild flower growing in Panama.

We hiked up to Bermejo Falls on a warm day (though ther're all warm so far).

Hey Toni, check this one out!  It's just growing alongside a river.

All the people we meet in the countryside are willing to stop and talk. 

OK here's what happened: Wasp lands on huge spider, stings him, and drags his limp, paralyzed victim all the way across the dirt road and into the bushes - as we watched.

Maria's orchids win prizes in local orchid competitions.

I call this the Morse Code plant. All dots and dashes.

Orchids can get very complicated indeed.

Epiphyllum?

Prettiest of the day  . . .but what is it?

Red and black is always in style.

What a wonderful farm lunch Maria gave us during the organic farm tour.

Gusti's magnetic smile - and he never stops telling stories.

Chon roasts and grinds some fresh beans for our coffee.

Sean will know it when he sees it.

Denton is still working toward Sourdough status after 30 years in Alaska. The jokes got pretty grizzly before it was over. 

A river dip for the men while on an outing.

Chon explains his farming theories.

Ribbons of frog eggs float in the river.

This Time I Really Thought We Were Going to David

While waiting to board a bus to take us to David, we asked the ticket salesman if he knew of any interesting places in the mountains on the way to David.  Several times he mentioned a good hotel called "Los Tenfoon", or something like that. Odd name, but whatever.

Jeff thought the place sounded pretty cool, and the bus driver's assistant agreed that Las Tenfoon was just right for us. That was enough to seal the deal.  Even though we couldn't find Las Tenfoon on any map or any travel book, we insisted they drop us off there, por favor.

The bus drove as off we stood by the roadside with our luggage  - and with barely a clue.

Before us was this sign: "Lost and Found Hostel ".  Oh! now we understand.  No wonder our "guides" couldn't spell Las Tenfoon!!  It was actually English.

It was a steep 15 minute walk up the jungled mountain to the lodge. Our Sherpa was an 80 year old deaf man who was as fit as a fiddle and told long stories with multiple punchlines, pausing to laugh happily at each one. All except his story about the Noriega years.

At 4000 feet in the mountains we had rain, mist, high winds, and enough cool air that 2 wool blankets were needed. Later in the clear night air the fireflies were enchanting and the stars looked as close as I have ever seen them.

This stop was just one night, then on the road again.  To David at last!! Where we will transfer buses and head way out east to the Veraguas region.  Stay tuned. We have big hopes for the next stop.

Our worldly possessions in a roadside heap.

Colorful directions up the trail.

Rest stops help make a happy day.

Ignacio is a very fit 80 year old with a nonstop sense of humor. 

The mysterious Hostel "Las Tenfoon" has been located. 

The dining room has a territorial view west towards Volcan Baru and Costa Rica. 

We are about 4000 feet elevation at the hostel. The tallest mountains in the Cordillera are about 11,000 feet. 

An international band of 20 somethings operate and populate the mountain hostel.  

The vibe is alternative psychodelic sci-fi.

Beats formica.

Curious white faced monkeys swing by the hostel to have a closer look at us. 

A note from Rocky, the camp Kinkajou.

There is really nothing better than a creamy papaya batido.

To David, Panama? Maybe later . . .

Well . . . eventually, maybe.

Heading east from Puerto Viejo, Jeff changed his mind, voting now to cross the border into Panama and then head out to Bocas del Toro  - just for a day or two.

So in the sweltering midday sun we found ourselves trudging over the Costa Rica - Panama border crossing, which is a decrepit railroad bridge over the Sixaola River. Once over, we waited for the next bus by lunching in the muddy, musty shade of the border town's general store.  Between us we polished off a petite can of sardines, some wheat bread, and a bottle of water. All while dripping sweat and  laughing about our luxurious, enviable adventure.

The water taxi ride out to Bocas crossed a vast bay at top speed and scooted between exotic mangrove islands. So refreshing, just exactly what we needed.

Bocas?  Well for me Bocas Town presents itself as a somewhat endearing tourist spot with brightly painted older buildings, tons of tourists, very few cars and little, inexpensive water taxis to deliver people out to a long list of nearby islands.  The vast majority of the traffic in the streets is pedestrians and bicycles.  Makes sense for life on an island in a coral atoll.  Sweet.

A load of desks being chased by a sweater ghost.

Walking the plank to Panama. Bonus: Peek a boo views of the Sixaola River. 

Welcome to Panama.

Heading out to Bocas Town.

Everyone has an ocean view. Yep, those are outhouses on the docks over the water.

Splish splash. Zoom zoom.

OK I'll go for the easy one. It was a hair raising voyage.

Boats are a way of life in Bocas Town.

Used to be some innocent mangroves and shrimp along this shore.

Enjoying the beach.

Proof: the shoes are off.

Pretty dang tropical.

Pretty dang relaxing.

Junior gets first lesson about beach fun. 

The sauce was very hot. The food was good.

The restaurant is a dock with a roof.

An actual Gurgel auto. They were manufactured in Brazil between 1969 and 1994.

Personally, I wouldn't want to live on a hot, rainy Caribbean Island - but a two night stay was great!

Pack it up!!