This I hope is the week our much awaited brake module will arrive in Panama and with any luck will be shipped to Boquete and who knows, might even fit and solve our over heating brake problems. If it doesn’t…well I don’t want to think about that.
Life goes on of course, ten pounds of laundry washed dried and folded for $14, a sum so large the purser of the expedition grumbled about the bill all the way back to GANNET2.
The infernal music festival with all the crowds pushed on into Sunday night, one final effort to keep us awake before Boquete relapses into its normal weekday torpor. The number of residents at the Topas Pension has produced quite a few visitors fascinated by our camper van lifestyle. Layne the purser has been kept busy giving tours.
My sister in Italy called me yesterday wondering where we were and what we were doing. That we were still in Panama came as a surprise, as the last she had heard was that we were going to ship before Christmas. Yup, stuff happens. And if you see a milk crate on the edge of the road, don’t ignore it or you might well fall in:
As evening falls the flow of festival goers increases to a flood right past our van. The other night I was sitting up in the doorway (we put our camp chairs away at dusk to avoid loss by theft) and a figure loomed up over the fence. “Do you live in your van?” a drunken voice asked in Spanish full of harmless curiosity. I was not in the mood at three in the morning to satisfy his understandable curiosity and I fear I was a tad bit curt. By way of punishment the thumping music went on well past four am.
We had an idea Saturday to go into town, away from the festival across the river, and try out the craft brewery in town. We strolled several blocks navigating traffic with Rusty taking the lead on his leash but we just had to give up.
Downtown was a crush of cars trucks and buses and crowds of people were surging up the sidewalks in the manner of a football crowd released from the stadium. It was too much so we ducked out onto the side streets and weaved our way home.
On Sunday we hoped things might be calmer and we tried again this time leaving Rusty home in the van.
We made it to the Tap Out a restaurant listed on Google Maps with a long list of barbecue dishes all in English. Kansas City ribs and brisket danced before our eyes.
Well I think the place must have got sold because the menu was a rather undistinguished sports bar listing of fried food and rather uninspired. My pulled pork plate showed up with a weird green slime of a shade never seen in nature and the barbecue sauce tasted straight from the bottle.
Chalk that up as another revolting meal in Panama.
Time to go home and get a nap before the nighttime entertainment blankets the town.
