Day 23—Paranoia & Santa Clara Beach

We woke up to a beautiful, cloud free day; perfect weather to go the beach.

Sean decided to go out and grab some batteries for my camera and some cash.  Emma, the teen, slept peacefully in the air-conditioned dark.  So I was reading my book, when I started hearing firecrackers: pop.pop.popopopop.  They were really close, closer than I’ve heard before.  But,  I didn’t think much about it. Then I hear a few more pops.  Silence.  And then a few more pops.  They seemed to be getting closer. 

Then all of sudden my brain said, “What if those aren’t fire-crackers? What if some crazed lunatic is systematically bursting into each villa, and killing everyone inside!? Maybe that is the sound of GUNFIRE!!!!” (What? It could happen.) So I decide I better check and see that the villa door is locked, because really? I don’t want to be a sitting duck.  So I jump off the couch, and run to the door.  I reach out and turn the lock (which was NOT LOCKED), and just as I do, someone is turning the knob from the outside.  I freak!  My heart starts to pound like crazy.

“Sean is that you?”

“Buenas.”  Someone says, with as strong accent, from the other side of the door.

“Sean, if that is you, stop playing!”  I demand as I desperately try  to look through the peep-hole.

“I am not letting you in until I’m sure it’s you?” I am both terrified it’s him and he is going to get slaughtered, and simultaneously afraid that it’s the gunman and he is going to start shooting through the door.

“¿Que?”

“Stand in front of the peep-hole! I am not letting you in until I see if it’s you!” Suddenly Sean’s laugh bursts out from the other side of the door.

“What is wrong with you, of course it’s me”

I unlock and swing open the door. 

“Damn you!  Didn't you hear that popping sound? I thought someone was shooting everyone in the villas.  It’s not funny!”

He looks at me dumbfounded.

“Those were just firecrackers. I saw the guy setting them off at the property next to this one.”

“Oh.”  Maybe I should stop watching the news.

So a bit later, we were ready to go to the beach, and Emma does one of her snits. 

“I don’t want to go to the beach! I hate the beach! People will see me in a bathing suit!” Yada, yada yada.

“Ok, Emma, you can stay here.”  She runs back into the condo with complete relief and locks all of the doors.  Sean and I look at each other, shrug, and head to the car. 

We had decided to go to an all inclusive beach club in San Carlos that has a swimming pool.  It would cost (from what I could discern from the internet) anywhere from $15.00-$35.00 per person, but that would include food and drinks (even alcoholic ones!) for the day. 

So we find the place without too much trouble (a small miracle in itself), and when we drive through the gate we are greeted by a woman (who does not speak English) and she rattles something off in Spanish and hands us a flyer for the club.  We are completely confused, but Sean “thinks” she said that the club is closed right now (why tease us with the flyer?) and that the public beach is in that direction. He points to his left. 

I am beginning to think Sean just interprets Spanish into whatever he wants to hear:  She said, “You are a beautiful man, and if you weren't with your wife, I would have my way with you.”  

Oh and she said the beach is that way…

Sure she did.

So we headed in the vague direction that Sean has “translated." 

Beach "road"

Our car on the beach "road"

Is it  possible that Sean mistranslated? 

I snap some pictures, and we head off to plan B. (This is Panama.  One thing I’ve learned, you better have a plan B!)

Looking back toward the San Carlos fishing village. 

This was the most promising stretch, but not very inviting. 

We decide to go to the beach in Santa Clara.  This is the one nice beach we found on day 9. (But didn't want to talk about on day 10, because I was in a snit.) 

Look at the beautiful white sand.

Emma testing the water. 

I had already done some research, so I knew that we could rent a bohio on the beach, and lounge around in the shade.  And I knew from being there, the water was stunning.  We again found it easily (having been there before--plus, there is only one place to make a wrong turn, which we did—but it was easy to backtrack to the proper route).

We got there about 11:30, and the parking lot was pretty full.  As we walked toward the rickety bridge that would take us across a murky lagoon onto the beach, an older gentleman approached us and told us it would be $2.00 a person, and handed us wrist bands.  

I snapped this picture of the bridge as we were leaving.  (Then promptly ran out of  room on my SD card!)

Ok, I thought.  I read about this.  So when Sean goes to pull out his money, he realized he had forgotten to get cash.  (Ummm, hello? That is why you went out in the morning! I am clearly not the only one addled by the jungle heat!) We only had about $20 between us, and we wanted to grab lunch here. 

So we approached the beach, and about half of the bohios were occupied.  We looked for one that had a table and two chairs.  It was cool, because the bohios also had hammocks (but there was no way I was going to risk humiliating myself in one of those things in front of the young, beautiful Panamanian’s who surrounded us.)  Oh what a pleasure to sit down in the shade.  Not a cloud in the sky, beautiful blue-green ocean, and soft white (clean) sand stretched in both directions.  

Sean decided to grab us a couple of ice cold beers, and check out how much lunch would cost us.  I sat in utter bliss, just enjoying the most beautiful beach I had seen in Panama.  Sean comes back with two bottles of beer, and says to me in a bewildered tone, “That just cost me $10.00!?”

“WHAT? WHY?”

“He said we had to pay $4.00 per person for the bohio.”

“But I thought we paid the parking lot guy for that.”

“No, he said I needed to pay him.” 

I was irritated.  I had just started loving being there, and then I felt "gringoed"  and I was sick of it. 

“I hate this place.” I grumbled as I sipped my beer, and tried to work why/how we just got ripped off.  

Then  I remembered  something I had read about this place. It said you pay for access to the beach, and then you have to pay to rent the bohio.  Oh…OK, so we weren’t "gringoed"! (for once!) Whew!  Now I could love this place again. (And besides, all it had cost us six bucks to sit on a clean beach, in the shade, in a chair.  We were going to pay $35.00 each for the beach club, so really, it was a bargain…Also, THE BEERS WERE ONLY $1.00! Excellent!)

So we sat, sipping our beers, and then we decided to go for a swim.  The water was perfect.  It was a beautiful color, the sand was soft all the way out, and the surf was mild, yet just entertaining enough to keep us on our toes. It was really fun.  After we dried off, we went to the restaurant to check out lunch.  They sat us outside, under a huge bohio.  It was great to kick off our shoes, and wiggle our toes in the sand.  The most important thing, though, was that they took credit cards.

Sean ordered corvino ceviche, and a margarita, and I ordered water and a pina colda. Sean loved his ceviche, and margarita (which wasn’t too sweet).  I hated my pina colda.  It was “gamey” tasting.  That’s the best I can describe it, and it didn’t seem cold enough, so Sean kindly drank that as well, and I stuck to water, and  half of his margarita.  We decided to order the meat platter for two for $20.  It had Chorizo (the ubiquitous word for sausage), beef, and chicken.  We decided to get fried potatoes (aka french fries) on the side instead of starchy plantains as we were really getting sick of these.  While we waited for our lunch, a few (well-fed) stray dogs sort of planted themselves in close proximity to the table. 

Look at the scruffy mohawk on top of his head. 

Our lunch came and it was a big platter of greasy cooked meat (mystery cuts) and a platter of French fries. 

Hmmm…I don’t know why I expected anything different.  

Alright, I’m pretty game to try just about anything (except for ceviche).   So we each took a sampling of the various meats.  I took a bite of chorizo, Ugh! I almost spit it out.  Not only did it have a terrible flavor, it tasted sort of old and gamey. Yuc! So, then I took a bit of the least offensive looking piece of beef.  The flavor was overwhelmingly salty, and slightly gamey, and it was so chewy, I could barely get it down.  Sean and glanced at each other, then at the dogs, then we surreptitiously started feed the dogs bits of sausage. (I didn't want to hurt the cook's feelings (as she kept staring at us though the kitchen window). 

Unfortunately, this was not smart.  While I don’t think the wait staff noticed, the other dogs (from across the restaurant) clued in to what was happening, and we were inundated with canine attention.  Yipes!  So I suggested to Sean that we save the rest for the cats back at the villa.  There were two scrawny pieces of fried chicken on the platter. Sean and I each took a piece.  Wow! The chicken was really good.  Oh man, why didn't we order the chicken (or the fresh fish caught that morning).  I wonder about my food ordering decisions sometimes.  

Oh well.  It was hot, and I wasn't very hungry anyway.  We asked for a to-go bag for the weird meat, and headed back to our bohio. We took another long swim.  The ocean had gotten a bit rougher, and Sean lost his sunglasses, and another large wave knocked mine off (but I saved them) and so we decided just to relax in the shade.  

I loved that beach, and  I really enjoyed being there, but I have to confess, the entire time we were there I was wishing Emma was with us.  I was worried about her, and I felt we needed to get back sooner than we otherwise would have.  So we returned to the villa, and the broken pool,  took cool showers, and were relaxed from a beautiful day at the beach.

Tomorrow, we will return to the city to explore a few things, and have a pool to cool off in!