They are so lovely that they’ve actually continued to be nice to Captain Jekyll to his face, while I throw in sarcastic comments or just try to avoid speaking to him all together. I knew I would like them as soon as Arnud told me with a chuckle that he’s a merchant seaman. Their English is not very strong, and my French is non-existant, so we often speak Spanish, which turns out to be the perfect language in which to complain about Captain Jekyll without him catching on. Not only that, they’re the type of couple that is low-maintenance and no-fuss, come to think of it I hope I’m not restoring their dislike for Americans!
Upon arriving at Dog Island, Arnud advised Captain Ginge not to drop anchor because we were on corral, but he of course would not listen. Then not 2 minutes later he screams at Arnud to bring the anchor back up. He decides we cannot anchor at Dog Island and must instead go to the Lemons. That was easier said than done, and we had to circle all around the atoll and radio another boat for directions before successfully anchoring. Once anchored, the fishing line was completely tangled in the propeller…so much for fish for lunch. I’m starting to question our fearless leader’s abilities.
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When Captain Ginge started plucking his nose hairs, I knew it was time to venture away from the boat once again. Anne and I rowed to the island across from Elephant Island (the one with the internet and big screen TV showing the World Cup) and found the most perfect beach. The beach I’ve been looking for all my life…it even had a hammock overlooking it. White sand, crystal clear turquoise water, palm trees, you name it! But this doesn’t mean the search stop, oh no, it’s just begun!
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The fresh-from-the-sea-to-my-plate lobster was delicious! By far the best meal we’ve had so far, probably because we actually ate fresh seafood and prepared it without the Captain. I knew Captain Jekyll was going to lose his shit when we put the cutting board with the lobster onto his precious newly-painted deck to crack it open. After working for a long time to pry the meat lose, we finally ate and I now understand why lobster is so expensive in restaurants. All the Captain could say was that it was just okay, blah blah blah lobster is overrated blah blah blah. But of course his meal of mayonnaise salad and baked beans was absolutely delicious…what is wrong with that man? He sure makes for some entertaining blog entries though!
As he walks off I notice he is wearing an Ed Hardy-esque hat, a coat of arms for douche bags everywhere, and I wonder how things like that end up on this little island. At only 800 meters in perimeter and boasting 4 families inhabiting it, I see some of the oddest things…like Ed Hardy hats, and Tom Cruise brand jeans. It’s curious how pop culture even seeps in at these far reaches.
Except the trip has been a bit too odd. The roach-infested Tropicbird is really more like a Tropicturd, and laid-back Captain Julian has quickly become Captain Jekyll. You might manage to boil some water between swats with your chanclas at the cucarachas (seriously, did they really follow me here?). Like most sailing trips, you have to work, but the captain has given us no instruction and gets angry at the drop of a hat when something is done incorrectly. The sailing cruise has turned into a horrible family vacation where dad is in a bad mood and threatens to pull the car over. Actually I wish that he would pull this boat over, but at this point we’re off the grid and at the mercy of time and the captain, so I’m hoping Wednesday morning comes quickly! I haven’t used the internet since last Thursday, so there’s probably some family member somewhere thinking I’m lost at sea. No, I’m just lost to the mercy of a self-righteous captain with a dilapidated boat, same difference. After throwing up not once, not twice, but three times on the way to the Chichime Islands and getting 2nd degree burns (no joke) on my face while in the shade, the end unfortunately can’t come soon enough. I’m counting the hours.
Coconuts are their main item of trade, and every coconut even on the beach belongs to someone. I met a Coconut Guard today and he informed me that it is his job to watch the coconuts on one stretch of Chichime Island for 4 months. After that time he will be replaced, and then sent to guard a different grove of coconuts. While he must have been exaggerating, he told me that his stretch of the island will produce one to two thousand coconuts, that Colombian boats will purchase for $15 each. If this is true, I need to invest in an island outside of the Kuna nation!
The Kunas hold “congreso” to discuss community issues and enforce laws and penalties. Breaking Kuna law can result in being penalized by filling barrels with coral remnants to be used for landfill (again, that pesky global warming is slowly turning small islands into mere shoals). One Kuna man received 10 barrels of landfill as punishment for hitting his wife. After complaining that his aggression was provoked by his wife, she received the same punishment.
Once or twice a year the Kuna have a spiritual celebration called the “chicha” ritual. An intoxicating sugarcane beverage is brewed for months ahead using a special press. The “chicha” is then drunk in the “chicha hut”, tourists lucky enough to be in the area are welcome to partake. I think the chicha would help the pain of my pinche 3rd degree burns, but alas I saw no chicha brewing during my trek around the island today.
The Kuna Yala also stitch “molas” which are Panama’s most famous handicraft, in addition to intricate beaded bracelets. The women paddle by each visiting boat, dressed in embroidered fabric, wrists heavy with beaded bracelets, noses pierced in the middle, and look to bargain their perfect souvenirs to arriving travelers.
Interestingly enough, the Kuna is a matrilineal society in which the women control the money and chose their husbands (who could ask for anything more?). Transvestites are also common, and are often accompanied by children to make the role even more convincing. Homosexuality refreshingly has no stigma here.
This place just keeps getting better and better! I feel so lucky that I’ve gotten to see firsthand that places like this still exist! But if you’re not Kuna, don’t expect to raise your children here. Now, about buying my own island…
After flashpacking my way through Europe last summer, I’m finding flashpacking in Central America to be much different. Using more buses than trains, adhering to my “No Shorts…Ever” rule is proving harder than I imagined. The roads are often unpaved and schleping my backpack through poverty stricken, depressed towns I feel like more of a flasher than a packer. It’s probably time to dust off the one pair of VERY long shorts I did bring. Crap, I was planning to ditch them in hopes of fitting one more new dress in my suitcase.