Oblivion and beyond. *and.. introducing Ecuadorrrrrrr

This morning we left the archipelo of San Blas. It is an actual independent provence, within Panama. They fought a civil war in 1925 and with February coming up; their flags were hanging out. February was their month of the revolution and they won it. Now they don´t pay taxes to Panama and own their islands.
The native Kuna´s; who wear ornaments in bright colours over their legs and where the women are as colourful as flowers, because of all the colour, including bright red bandana´s and black 'make-up' lines with crosses over their face. The cross is a returning theme, that basically stands for protection and it is one of their three themes of art, or at least, that´s what I made up out of their different cloths and pictures. They create images showing either flowers and birds (flowers are the females and birds the men, thus resembling the picture of a family), their fruits and fish as their main food or creative patterns always with a cross against evil spirits. The guide tells us that they don¨t have any thieves or bad people on the islands,. The only bad are the spirits that sometimes make people sick. Tha´s why they were so many protictive symbols and clothing, to not get sick. Next to were I buy this bracelet of protection, where the guide tells us some more about their culture, there is a woman chanting in a hut next to a sick kid. The shaman chants will help the child get better. I can imagine that the guiding energy of a healer, a shaman can actually transmit a vibe of belief that helps the child feel stronger, proitected and therefor more relaxed which will have an overall effect on his immune systems. As 'Into the wild' states, sometimes it is not that important to BE strong, but to FEEL strong.

This morning we left the archipel by the same route we got there. The only difference was, this time we had not been drinking alcohol till 5 in the morning followed up by half a codeine-like sleeping pill. Frosty remembered the whoel trip, where Chad, Ricky and me just had vague images and just a few really. I remembered the bumby road and crossing the river with the jeep, the others had no clue, but then after this long bumpy gravellike, muddy road with sharp curves there was a police control. They told me I had been there before, I had gotten out of the car, they had asked our age and our passports and my name and passport number was in their papers. I have no recollection whatsoever of that happening. I had to laugh when I found out that entire parts of our trip were just gone into an infinite abyss of oblivion.

I remembered how the night had started out, a cycle tour to the different islands of Panama City, a nice dinner in a restaurant, an expresso, us showering and getting packed for living three days with natives of a remote archipelago of tropical islands and the first stop in the casino.

I couldn´t help giggling like a schoolboy. In the casino where acccording to Miguel (our couchsurfing host) on an average saturday about 600 hookers that try their moves on you. Witnessing a solemn 150 working their moves on the casino floor was quite the sight I tell you.
One of them is playing the blackjack table and I observe how she make beliefs to two other players simultaneously that she is genuinly interested in them. The subtle looks she throws, then not looking for a while, they must know the game of hitting and being hit on by heart, though I think that is the last organ that has anything to do with it.

Can you imagine the casino, fans blowing generating a cool air that touched walked off carpets and digital slot machines bleeping and blinging around you. You look around and everywhere there are girls dressed up hot looking to catch a fish, the bigger the better. And just so you know, you are a fish too. Some are sitting next to their pimps and one of them, dressed in a nice red top and black skirt looks at you with just this look that takes about two to three seconds longer than normal, smiles and looks away. She is not alone and they play their game tight. So many impulses of women coming at you at the same time. That was an overdose of buzzes to me. I try to block it out of the way a bit while we wait for our 5 beers at the bar. The barkeepers take such a long time that we decide to take it elsewhere. We walk out of there in a schoolboy high of having being observed 'lustfully' by aproximately 150 women.

Okay, let´s go to a bit more normal bar then. Miguel knows, we follow. One block, two blocks and then we arrive at a bar with a porch. It is loaded, absolutely loaded with columbian hotties. When we walk in the hottest of them all says in load voice as we pass by: hmmm hmm, que papito mas rico! Towards the tall Sweed, better known as Frosty. Chad gets his but squeezed as he walks by and then another rubs his belly. They fingertickle Frosty and I am fully aware of the definition of: absolutely flabbergasted. My ears must have had the colour of lobster and I feel highly desorientaded up until I work down the first half of my beer. We shoot some pool and the entire row of girls at the bar that were checking us out, realize, we are not here for 'culear chuca' and are more like on a safari through the area. One by one they leave on their roll of looking for work. By then it hit us how depressing the situation was. Imagine, a quiet night has 50 to 150 hookers, the weekends you have 600, 700 competing there. Prices must go down then and they fake their laughs when some old geezer makes a joke, knowing he will pay them to stick his wiener into their bush.

The first schoolboy exitement fades out with those thoughts. We want to go somewhere where the beer is more cheap (and not three dollars) and where wer can play pool too. Miguel knows, we follow and come to a nice bar were we hit the table for about an hour when, after having duels against two locals and recuperated the score up to 2-3, winning the last two games a girl comes in. This is my table now, you can play with something else, if you got a problem with that: talk to my hand and holds out her hand. Wow. Here comes a girl with an attitude. She actually challenged us and showd us the true meaning of: man, that girl can play ball. Indifferently-wise she points the cue at a ball and using only one hand just shoves it in. Quite the shot. Man, she IS good.

She is accompanied by a catalan young man who is so full of his micro-nationality of being Catalan that is overruled all the other importancies of ethics. So it seems. I disliked the guy and after two games of pool, the girl: Catarina explicited she felt just that too. We jump a cab and his a bar with her. Our hunch that she is a hooker gets confirmed little by little and we make a pact to just treat her like a regular beautiful woman we want to show a good time. Panama City and its working girls of the night have no need for knighly young man like that. You might even call it being full of ourselves and our morals. Because in realy, we were keeping her off work. And walking out on three nice young men with good intentions because you need to pay bills may suck just all the worse. So much for good intentions. Though I must say, we had fun for a while.

It´s almost time to get to the pick-up point. We make a run for the pharmacy, getting some cookies and sleeping pills for the ride, (not having slept at all until now and being in our third night of drinking) and already the hysterical laughter kicks in. (Later more)

We are all rowdy during the first half hour to 45 minutes. Ricky tells us a joke that cracks us up so bad, it kept us going for two days. Reminding ourselves of those two jokes he told would get us back into this mood of boys staying up late having fun cracking up turn by turn and just shaking our underbellies into the night. That shit was hilarious. Ricky, mind you, in an American from around San Francisco, but with Phillipine roots. He told us two jokes his grandd father told him about wether or not Chinese Jews existed and a plane crash with a white male a black male and a Chinese taking care of the shelter, food and supplies. I don't think I ever found a joke funnier. We just laughed and lauhed and then all of a sudden: silence. Frosty turns around to see what happened. The tablets kicked in and we are sound asleep while rallying over the gravel muddy steep curving bumpy road not taking the slightest notice of the drive itself. I told you, as you can see I don't mention the police check here because it does simply not exist in my memory.

Other picures I put up here are the isles and our shower. onight is our last night before Chad wil try and organize a life here in Panama City, Frosty and Ricky will probably head up to Santa Catalina and I will fly down to Guayaquil.







Panama City / Guayaquil

I get up in the morning and before heading out Ricky gets up and we hug. Leaving the guys like that gets an egg in my throat. I feel tears pressing but I press them back. I made my decision. Miguel drives me to Panama's airport. After our goodbye I get in line to check in and later board. The employees are wearing all kinds of weird hats that day, one is wearing a carton box as proud as the tiara of miss universe. After a short meal in the restaurant and buying me my Panama beer Tshirt I get on board. Only when I'm sitting down alredy I relize I'm flying first class! Shit! Sitting in an ultracomfortable big leather chair I get served food and drinks. An American Bulgarian Bloke is sitting next to me and drinks 4 red wines against being nervous and doesn't seem to stop talking. I'm tired so I tell him politely that I haven't slept all that much and rather have some shut eye before landing.

VIP luggage handling, my bag is the first to come out of the hole. I step through security check and look for Gabriela who wrote she would pick me up. My eves glaze over the people while I pass by, I'm not seeing her, but then, there she is standing with a big smile and a safran coloured dress. She shines like gold and smiles stars and our first embrace was deeply felt.
She took me to eat fruit and pan de yuca in her station wagon. Then we picked up her twin sister and her boyfriend stopped at her house to pick up some stuff where I met both the mother and her father who seemed to not dislike me and we were off, picking up two more friends on the way and drive to Montañita.

That's surfer's paradise in Ecuador for ya, with probably the most handsome and pretty travelers on this planet in a small little town. It breathes European festival ambiance, just like Bocas del Toro did. We found a cabin after a long search at a place owned by a women from the Basque country, Spain. Only later I find out that that's the place where Reed had gotten his first Ayahuasca ceremony. Despite my tiredness (having partied and slept only 4 hours the last 4 nights) we hit the scene and drink some beers and rum. While the twin sister and her boyfriend go for xtc's, we hit the sack. At aprox. 7 in the morning there's knocking on our door. It's Reed who had been left alone by the others in some dancing place4 not knowing how to get back home. We give him the keys of the car so we ca all rest a little before going for breakfast. When we do we get a banana milkshake, toast and the best of Montañita: fresh Ceviche. (All sorts of seafruits in tigermilk with scorned corn, nuts and vegetables.)

We hit the beach, run through smashing waves and start our voyage back to Guayaquil. During the week I follow Gabriela while running errands for her dad´s metal workshop. I sit besides her in the station wagon and we cruise from one place to another while listening to Piero or Hector singing out of the speakers. I visit her university wih her where her gay proessor is eating me up with his eyes and starts to talk about the virtues of the valley of meat: carnaval, coming up next week.

We are out of there. Against her fathers wishes we take the bus to Baños. Reed is already there.
A 7 hour bustrip up the mountain. The amount of provisional stops where sellers get into the bus trying to sell you there corn, cd´s, chicken or bananas is insane! We finally arrive at 2 in the morning and find a hotel with a pretty ok room.

The next morning Reed manages to be our alarm and we wake up to Baños, a superb place with a house in a tree next to a roaring vulcano and a waterfall that makes you believe in God as huge and tremendous that thing is shaped. You feel like a small teenie tiny ant. We rented squads and took them for a spin over the highway and a road which seemed to be a cart rally track. That was so much fun going over stones and gravel next to a green valley with a river at its bottom and beautiful view everywhere you look. (What do you mean nice view, where? I only see these freakin´mountains!)

There´s a stop next to the bridal train waterfall and a small basket is running across the valley hanging on merely three thin cords. It runs pretty fast and we look down a great opportunity to kill oneself. We run around like crazy hyper tourists jumping rocks and take our pictures before heading back out to the squads. Next there´s a brige with swing jump. People jump off on a cord, make a salto and spin while swiniçging back and forth. After some tunnels and high speed driving we make it to the devil´s faces. We park the squads and start walking down the steps of the long climb don. The people coming form the other way look beat and are breathing heavily.

I am ashamed to say I acted like a genuine naive tourist on my way down: there was a snake and the opportunity to take a picture. Gaby and me got our picture but I couldn´t help feeling sorry for that snake, all dried up, being hung over the necks of so many persons a day, having to gobble down water its `owner` was forcing down its throat to alter vomit it up again. It was sad.
A fate I wished I could change by a single thought of sympathy.

Now, about the waterfall.. No descriptional line of words would do just to the experience. Some pictures I will put up might reveal some of its immense power.

We got back to Baños waaaay over time and we had to bargain ourselves out of the deal in order not to pay 45 dollars a squad. We managed a 32,50 under the condition we would take the night trip with them and not with any of the others offering the same service. That night we get into a schoolbuslike vehicle with latin songs and people obviously knowing the lyrics, singing them out loud. That´s how we drive through the dark up the mountain and get shots of cinnemon something before we are led to a circle with fire jugglers and mariachis, drunken dancers and the mountain spirits as our witnesses.

Snapshots Boquete

A sudden urge came up to hit the road the day I last wrote on this blog. Something was up in the air, felt as an itching or heard as a humming maybe. I asked about the last bus leaving Santa Catalina at the store. The woman replied at 14:00 hours. That´s in 40 minutes, just enough to walk up, get my stuff I already had packed that morning in response to a nasty morning mood getting up at 06:35. So, I said to myself, if Nina and Chris are there to stay, I don´t go, if the path shows otherwise, I march. On my way up I meet Chris packed and sacked moving towards the bus already, he had written a note for us. That´s the sign, I´m off too. 40 minutes, clock´s ticking. I arrive, tell Juan Carlos, the surfer that works there to make up the bills straightaway and move into the room to grab the bags and say goodbye to Nina. It all happened so fast, a moment´s decision. I walk down again, with exactly 20 minutes left. At the fork in the road there´s a car a haller at. He gives me a ride part of the way. ´Thanks for the wave´ I tell him when jumping off. An Australian ´no worries´ sounds and the car pulls away. I will make the bus.

The busride was covered partly standing up, because they ticket sellers have no clue of how many people there are already on the bus. But it was alright. One man got a little upset complaining out loud. I asked a woman, hey, could you teach me some salsa whilke I stand up here? She had to laugh. The guy that got upset is standing next to me and a chinese man. He tells him: Usted es un chino feo. You are a ugly chinese. We can´t help laughing because of the guy´s bluntness. Chris offers me his seat after the first hour and after that some people get off and we are all a sitting family again, Chris, and two tourguides from Costa Rica and the US. We share the taxi to the purple house hostel. There I meet some people including a Sweed how´s name is Frosty, Ricky from San Francisco and Joe and Veveka from Canada. (Joe, Veveka and Ricky are in the pictures) We team up for Boquete the next day. What I originally would do with Chris and Frosty, but Chris leaves on an twist of fate and furthermore conscious choice to catch a cheap flight to Buenos Aires.

The next morning we are good to go. I wake up vibrant, energized, doing my daily peaceful warrior routine. Frosty left just before we get back from the supermarket. I guess we´ll see him there then.

Miguel Gonzalez is a member of the couchsurfing community. He wrote me he would be for a week in Boquete and said it would be cool to meet up. I wrote him and he told me where best to stay in Boquete, so after having toured different hostels, we all check into El Refugio del Rio, what a great place.

That same afternoon we take the bus towards the Pozos de Caldera: hotsprings from the vucano (see pictures) After the bus drops us off at a crossroads we hitch a ride in the back of a truck to Caldera, a town of witches and cowboys accodring to the Planet. Then it´s just another gravel road hike until we make it to the first hot spring. 42 degrees celcius makes us lightheaded in no time. The sulfur smell is minimal. After two hot springs we refresh ourselves in the nearby river before heading back. We got half an hour before dusk. We get out at the supermarket, buy foods, cook a meal and call it a day.

Peace starts Here

The air is warming up. Even the ocean breeze can't stop the heat of the sun at 9 degrees over the equator. I'm sitting behind a computer with an improvised Internet connection. A cable goes through the wall up to the only place where there's some network coverage. There a mobile phone is hanging on a leach to get in the signal. It is a relatively new surfer all-in holiday business opened by y German couple 4 months ago. Chickens walk freely here, the rooster yells his lungs out and a parot up in the trees was copying my waterdrop sounds in a very funny attempt. I had to jump a ride to get here. The misfortune of others was my luck. They had their passports stolen and got a lift to Santiago by jeep. That jeep stopped in front of my breakfast up on the hill in Surfer's Paradise, Santa Catalina and I yelled and got on board.

They will need 4 weeks of waiting time and it drew a line through their plans of visiting friends in Costa Rica. (In advance for those that actually read some of this blog, I must appologize for my bad English, the more I handle Spanish, the worse my English gets.)

When I close my eyes I see waves rolling in. Sometimes just by sitting in a chair I feel the wave underneath throwing me up and then my feet land back on the ground. The feeling of jumpin over a wave with your surfboard in front of you is this wavy feeling that has integrated itself in my normal sitting perceptions, for now. I enjoy it.

I've been exploring the definition of surfing small waves in a beginner beachbreak that nonetheless produces waves almost as big as a good day on a reef break. With that experience I get the exploration of the definition of wipeout inclusided, free of charge. Howevern not entirely free. All has its price they say. Yesterday the point of the board caught the wave before anything else did and I wiped out into the wave feeling as if I were inside a washing machine and then when I got to the surface again, the next wave got me already. It broke just on my head and my board's fin found my ankle. After having left the water and having crossed the hot as hell beach to our stuff my travel companion of the day pointed at my ankle. It was bleading.

When I went back out into the water later I though about blood atracting sharks, but such a minor bruise shouldn't cause any attraction of 'em. They have plenty of fish to eat as demonstrated the specimen of 800 kilos they caught the other day. So there are sharks here, but so well fed, they would never go for surfers. 5 or 6 surfers worldwide a year; die by shark attacks. Where over 150 people die worldwide; by a falling coconut coming down a palmtree. The beach is way more dangerous than the ocean, or so it seems. So here's the moral of this short paragraph: If you are visiting foreign soils and looking for shade under a palm tree, check for the chance of falling objects like coconuts first.

Yesterday morning started out so fine. After breakfast Chris (a German guy we met net to the busstop) and myself took two boards (a shortboard and a funboard) and walked down to the beach. An English girl who's boyfriend had gone to the reef joined us. We dropped our stuff and walked into the ocean. The water was as warm as our European swimmingpool water, say 23 to 28 degrees celcius and the sand is woven in a wave like pattern; a crab swam by. Wow, luckily it didn't feel like grabbing my leg while passing through.

The tide is perfect for forming smaller ridable waves and I decide to ride a wave for Obama, since it is his inauguration day and all. The exclamation of his name feels like a warrior's attack and in full clarity and awakeness, while screaming still I push myself up and ride that wave for a good 15 seconds before I willingly fall back in the watter, content. That was the best wave I got all day.

The rest of the day is filled with resting and reading in the shade or creaming in my body time after time. When it's dark we order food at our spot enjoying a salty meal on top of a point with great views and stunning sunsets. a surfer magazine writes about actions of surfers as activists gettting camera's and publicity against whaling and killing dolphins in Japan. It moved me to see how some people act upon bad stuff and try to defend those that cannot defend themselves. Where others make business out of destroying animals that even are known to protect humans from shark attacks.

When I arrived a few days before at Playa las Lajas there were almost no lights and we could spot the inmensity of the staryy sky above us. So many! And we robbed ourselves of that beautiful sight in so many places we now call civilized. No wonder we lost and are still losing the connection to ourselves and the universe missing out on a simple fact of being able to see the stars and the 'via galactica'. The only one we do see is a blue and white wrapping of a candybar. Couldn't we decide, one country at a time to start small to introduce a streetlight free weekend? Make it christmass maybe. Everybody is with family and friends and we have all these beautiful christmas trees and lights everywhere and we pull the plug on all streetlanterns and neon signs. For only two or three nights a year, we can experience the beauty of the stars around us. We can sit in blankets and tell stories while we drink hot chocolate, tea and glühwein, no? Is it truly naíve to think in that manner? That we could make such a change happen? Or is it part of the everysounding humming sound of our 'culture' that makes us label such thoughts as naíve or silly?

Before Playa las Lajas Nina and me decided we would stay at least one night at the isle of Bocas del Toro. What a crazy place full of tourists. I felt more like walking on a European Festival than being an an island in the Carribean. I met an Israelic girl that thought I was messing with her and I was actually Israeli myself. `Sababa?` `Sababa.` 'Larutz meal lamichsholim.' I said; which is what the army sergeants scream at their soldiers in training doing the obstacle run. It means: You have to go/run over the obstacles. Which applies to life just as it applies on the stormrun. Then when I told her my name she said: that's an Israeli name. She was very pretty and we exchanged enough smiles to see that the apreciation of being was mutual. when she left the premises later that day and I bumbed into her and her two american friends on the street she said godbye with the words: 'see you in Israel.' and we smiled to one another for la penúltima vez. I write penúltima, because it is tradition not to say 'última' or last, because that could mean your very last time. So forelast it is then.

In that same hostel there's a French guy who's name is Camille. I think I was the first person he saw that day because I was sitting next to his bed when he woke up. I told him: you must be French and he confirmed and that was the beginning of meeting an individual who almost instantly became a friend. He was sitting downstairs with his laptop, suposingly to be studying agriculture in Central America - Panamá (kinda hard being on an island where people get drunk or even coked up and sometimes laid, around you all the time) After I told him the worst French I knew, which I had learned from my ex flatmate in Berlin he laughed hard and I laughed with him and we shared the rest of the day making funny remarks and meeting new people. (For those that were interested in the French, it is really really bad, Alors Gaselle, je te vais troncher, on y va, ou quoi?) It wasn't so much the faul language that connected us but the way we found laughter in knowing the same obscenity and some laughs later, just having this genreal feeling fo having bonded at least for the day. And more than a day I did't last, not yet anyway. I was 'bound' to meet skinny again at the pier the next day at 07:00 a.m. off to take the boat back to Almirante and make out for Playa las Lajas. The night before we made a meal together and in my goodbye's I saluted Geerd, the girls from conneticut with whom a glancing play was held (She looks at me, I glace back, we come on to one another to then disappear again) and to Heather,
norway's national flower from New York, Queens that blew me a kiss stating she fancied me. I chose a good night rest instead and found peace in that choice.

Now here's what I found on the wall in that hostel:

DOUBT IS THE WATERFALL
THAT SUBSTITUTES INTUITION
FOR SPECTACULAR VIEWS
NATURE'S PERFECTION
MISSING SOMETHING
YOU.

COMFORT IS THE
LISTENER
THAT HARDLY MOVES
TALKS OF SALVATION
IN RHETORIC
CONFUSED
DIALOGUES
SOLILOQUIES
MANTRAS.

FEAR IS THE RAPIST
WHO PRETENDS TO BE
A BURGLAR
STEALING THE
SMALLEST TOKENS
OF LOVE
AT NIGHT
TO COVER
THE MORE HEINOUS CRIME
OR TAINTING PASSION
WITH
POWER.

GUILTY IS THE PRIEST
WHO SITS ATOP
OF CONTRADICTIONS
OF IMPOSSIBLE TRUTHS
PARADED AS ANCIENT LAWS
GERMINATING
SUSPICION
IN INACCESIBLE CORNERS
OF FAITH
HOPING TO BE OVERLOOKED
BYPASSED
BY POINTING
THE FINGER
AT
ANOTHER




and also:


SANITY IS THE VANITY
DESTROYING HUMANITY
LET GO
OF WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE
AND CREATE YOUR OWN REALITY


or:

PEACE STARTS HERE
witha drawing of a person radiating light
and the words
do good where you can
do good when you can
and some more I don't remember in their totality.


I promise I will upload pictures to this post later, for now the Internet is so slow, I wonder if I even can get these words up here...

Now it's back hitchhiking to Santa Catalina and enjoy a last day of reading a book in a hamok

Algo de vida viajante interior en castellano.

En respuesta a la pregunta: ¿Y?, señor Kaj, como se siente?

La verdad es que no se bien como me siento, fluctua mucho..
hoy poco mas mal, pq ayer me senti re-triste sabiendo que algo no andaba bien con mi mama,
lo senti simplemente. Asi que les llame y estaba en lo cierto, estaban alli mi hermana y hermano y hoy van al hospital con ella. Es muy extraño intentar disfrutar una libertad y aventura al maximo sabiendo que en casa.. lo que parecio ir mejor, de nuevo andaba peor.

Ademas despues de estar con alguien 5 dias seguidos siempre me hace sentir que necesito mi propio espacio.. pues, eligi caminar acompanado por otro de momento.., tomando el aire de mujer ausente.

Si que me siento fuerte en momentos dados, abierto y libre y como dijo la peli `into the wild` a veces no es importante ser fuerte, sino sentirse fuerte. En otros momentos ando mas agobiado pensando adonde ir? y como? Creo que me hace falta viajar por propia cuenta aprendiendo como se juega el juego.. Hasta ahora he estado viajando basicamente despues de llegar a San Jose con 2 personas mas y hay que tener paciencia con los deseos de otros y estar atento por mas cosas que solo las tuyas. A veces me siento poco en medio de ello (el juego de viajar) sin saber realmente bien jugarlo aun.

Ya vendra y aunque escucho cada dia historias de gente que fue robado, pegado o amenezado,
no me siento amenezado yo. Creo en la bondad de mis destinos y la capacidad de estimar situaciones y huir a otro lugar si lo veo necesario, y mientras dejandome llevar por olas igual.

El crecimiento de huesos nos duele y igual para realmente crecer fuerte y mas rapido como un viaje como este provocaria ha de doler poco tambien. Echar de menos a personas, cosas para mas tarde realmente poder abrir los ojos.

Y a proposito; mas que el futuro o el pasado, tenemos al presente.
Y solo el sentirlo por completo, nuestro mundo interior, dejar volar los pensamientos y dejar trancender los sentimientos sin entrar en un circulo vicioco. Haber que fluir por ellos.

Ayer lluvio tanto tanto tanto y hoy hace calor de nuevo..
tengo mal angustia y amargura que tengo por parte por dentro y no hay mejor remedio que entrar en ello por completo durante algunos instantes antes de dejarlo trancender.
Es lo que hay enfrente, dentro y lo que hay que ir afuera.

Ademas, lo que tengo fuera, la piel, ya la tengo quemada por la luz solar de 2 dias!
Ya no tengo cuerpo de leche..

Cosas se desarollan poco a poco, un estado de animo, una fe en ser fuerte..
Lo que tengo en mi ventaja es la apertura. Conecto muy facil con gente y me cuenta lo que uno ayude a navigar bien por mares desconocidos.

asi es que todavia sigo el poema de Antonio Machado..
haciendo caminos sobre la mar.

And Jesus was a sailor when He walked upon the water
And He spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower
And when He knew for certain only drowning men could see Him
He said, "All men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them"
But He Himself was broken long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind

Suzanne takes your hand, and she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning 
They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever
while Suzanne holds the mirror

And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you will trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind

L.Cohen

Oh, wie schoen ist Panama! (Janosh)

I`m in Panama!

On an island just outside of the coast and tried to catch my first wave today. On Wizard beach, Bastimiento, Panama. We had to walk through a mud slide over the hills to get there, a beach, totally deserted, except for the wizzard: Ebarristo, a guard who`s job it is to keep people safe. He was in his cabaña looking out over the ocean. Insane, in the caribic, on a beach, just us. Me dijo, ah usted tiene el don de lenguas! Que bueno saber y conocer a vos, espero que puede utilizar bien su don, hay que desarollarla y ver donde Dios quiere que tu puedes contribuir en su trabajo. So we got into faith and religion and that my attempt to surf in a way was putting faith directly into practice. A kid runs up with a machete and a plastic knighthelmet. Ah! You are a knight I say, but you must be a good knight. He laughs back to my words with a shy pride.

After half an hour trying to catch a wave (the conditions are not the best ones and I am a total beginner) I rest next to Nina in the sand and we read until we are almost sunburned, again!
So we decide to walk to 1,2 kilometres back through the mud. And when I say mud, man do I mean mud! We are in there up till over our ankels and slip and slide through the jungle, dodging frogs and tree roots every now and then. On our way back we meet a Dutch coupe that just got robbed here, by two guys with a machete. They lost 20 dollars, all they caried with them. We were carrying a surfboard and a bag with a towel and two books, not exactly jackpot. I mean, robbing a surfboard would definately limit your fast fleeing capacity, let alone increase the ability to be spotted.) It didn`t scare me at all. I heard the stories of people that rob here, they ask your stuff and then they (not locals from the island but probably from some other place) go about their way again before police gets informed, You see, the last robber here got shot in his ass! so they know to just strike and be gone. So I figured they were probably long gone already and if not, well, they can get the books! I mean, they don`t want to injure anybody, they just want your money and stuff!

Anyway, the walk and the surf attempt washed away my hang-over and I`m pretty positive that they are gone and had the feeling that even if they would appear, masked in white I`d almost be like, oh, hey, there you are, we heard you were here robbing people and expected to might bumb into you, sorry, we didn`t bring anything of worth. I don`t know what got into me, I just knew they woulnd hurt us or get our stuff so we continued our walk as if it was just another strawl.

Yesterday we were at another island, were Columbus once had to repair one of his ships: Caranero. We swam and met some nice Argentinians and a local who had a Dutch girlfriend, he commented on our Marihuana that is was too strong and not nice. I agreed. When he asked whether the girl, Nina was my girlsfriend I told him, who she? No, she is my therapist from Berlin, which IS basically true. He was like, yeah right! No, no, really, she is my accupuncturist, that`s how we met and we became friends later. In the evening after dinner Max, a guy from Munchen comes and picks us up with one of the boat taxi`s and we hit the maintown Bocas de toro to start drinking beer, before it is ladies night at the opposite island where the girls drink for free. I must say, I misbehaved. After arrival and security check we take the empty dancefloor in the now pouring rain and go for it. Two guys from Texas, an American Girl, three others and myself, drunk, take the role of party starters and start dancing fanaticly. The dancing crowd grows and after some minutes a circle opens and the Texasman makes some snake moves and the people around jell and clapp, the girl moves in and busts some moves, I jump in on my hands and since it`s wet slide through and fall in the crowd on the other side, people still encourage and help me up, well, if someone makes an ass out of himself, others might feel more free to take a shot too. The enthusiasm of travelers going through the roof is still increasing. Later when the rain is actually pouring the girl and I remain and she tellls me, okay, let`s do this, You dance and then stop, then I dance and stop, then you begin again and stop, then everybody dances again.
So we told a story. She dances, stops, I start, stop, she goes and sits down, I follow dancing and sit down beside her, arms crossed, she goes off again and stands legs wide, I go underneath and come up at her backside, she moves away, I sit down, she comes to me and sits on top, then we move again simultaneously and continue the game untill the music stops and we high five off the stage into the crowd around and get us another beer. Now I know this wasn`t my first occasion reaching the centre of attention of a party while drunk. And I really am shy and insecure more often, but when the occasion arises, the rush and the alcohol seems to lure me into these kind of situations.

Now I`m confessing my sins on a blog.

My birthday was great in a very simple way by the way. I read several birthday messages frm Europe, since I was already 27 there, but still 26 in Costa Rica! and then ended up drinking beers into the night with a girl named Faith in a hammok in the hostel Bekuo en San Jose. We had a click and conversed deeper into the night. On my birthday morning I jumped into a taxi, off to meet up with Nina and Skinny. We took the bus from to Panama, incredible landscapes on our way and great ginger pills that prevented any nausea. We passed the border crossing a bridge walking, discovering a new world and once on the other side teamed up with 4 surfers in a minibus taxi, laughing our way up to bocas (see photo), by taxi and later by boat. It just seems so unreal to be on the caribean sea in Panama while having had a secret wish to visit Panama ever since I saw that animation film of bear and tiger finding this empty chest of bananas. (I must have been 6 years old. In the story, the chest smells so good, they deice to part for Panama and walk and walk for such a long time that when they finally arrive at their own house again, it has changed so much they don`t recognize it and exclaim: wow! Here we will stay! How beautiful is Panama!