Riptide

So I'm staying in Bocas another week. Erik and I had our backpacks on, had already said goodbye to everyone at the hostel under the sun, when I get the last minute wheeling and dealing from Dave, one of the spectacular owners. Stay on as a promoter? Free rent, bar tab and family dinners and live Bocas del Toro for 16 hours of work a week? I had paddled back into to shore so... close, but the riptide caught me and sucked me straight back out to sea.

Don't get me wrong, because sure I want new adventure. To hightail out for Boquete, or Dos Pasos, or hell, jump that direct flight straight on down to Buenos Aires. But really, this is my trip and I'm just trying to get the most of it that I can. I can hold steady in this beautiful bunch of islands for one more week and be happy.

The other day we caught the bus out to the other side of Isla Colon, to Playa Bocas del Drago. It's a skinny strip of sand, much diminished by the recent floods the Caribbean in these parts has undergone. Lots of palm trees and your occasional yellow bird of paradise. Tricked out boats from around the world docked in sleepy coves. A fifteen-year old Panamanian let me ride his beach cruiser because it matched my white, 50's style sunglasses.

But the special thing about Bocas del Drago is underneath the water. We were sloshing along in the clear, shallow waves and suddenly we were in a fairytale. A starfish garden- hundreds of starfish, bigger than your hand with complicated, nubbly patterns written on their reddish-orange skin. They were sitting on top of the sand, happy to have you pick them up and read about how amazing your life is in their soft underbelly.

So, whatever, I'm stalking Calle Principal this week, telling all my new friends about Bar Mondo Taitu's free hookah Sunday and Wednesday night 80's power hour. These things fall into my lap sometimes and I'm just going to keep breathing. Let the learning work itself out.