Upon reaching the port for our short and sweet 45 minute boat ride, our driver was looking worried. We'd seen a bunch of Military guys arrive the day before, and it transpired that these guys were in fact the Paramilitaries. The Darien region is renowned for the high presence of Guerillas, Military and Paramilitaries and we were right in the thick of experiencing the power hold of these groups on the country and its people. A Paramilitary leader had been killed by the Military the day before and this resulted in the entire area being shut down, to go against these enforcements was to quite frankly place yourself at risk of severe consequences. This also meant that we were unable to take our boat around the heads and into Panama. The only option being, as our boat driver whispered to us, was to cross the border with Panama by land. I groaned hearing this as my backpack weighed half of my body weight and the walk was up an incredibly steep hill.
So we set off with 2 Danes towards La Meil in Panama. Red faced and puffing we reached the jetty only to find that there was no driver. A French backpacker, also in our predicament tracked a guy down and we jumped into a tiny lancha (speed boat) across choppy and drenching waters to Puerto Obaldia.
Upon arriving into Puerto Obaldia, we immediately wanted to get out. It was dirty - there was so much rubbish floating in the water and the people looked miserable and were immediately hostile towards us. The border requirements were strange, we were first ordered to walk onto a foam mattress and back again by a military guy with an enormous machine gun. We thought that they were having a joke at our expense, however we were told later that it was to clean our shoes after being in dirty Columbia !?! Before getting our Panama stamp we were instructed to show our credit cards and money (for which Tom and I only had $10 between us) - a bit of an unnerving prospect.
These posters were all over Puerto Obladia - offering awards for missing military officials
Arriving at the Air Panama shed aka internet cafe, we immediately realised that there was going to be a problem. Wendy at Air Panama (unfortunately we got to know this lady well over the few days!) told us that there were no 'gringos' booked onto the flight, for which we all debated, however she was not budging. Somehow the French guy managed to get a ticket, so we joined him to see if we could bribe our way on to the plane. Afterall, we were in an almost lawless part of the world. So we tried sneaking through the barriers to the tiny airstrip, even trying to persuade the pilot to smuggle us on, but to no avail. Minutes before the plane left, a guardian angel was sent to us in the form of the French guy. He handed us $200, knowing full well that with only $10 to survive on we were as good as dead in this town.
The Air Panama computer in the local internet cafe.
As the 4 of us saw the plane take off and disappear into the distance, we felt an overwhelming sense of desperation. I cornered Wendy to book us onto the next plane, which left in 3 days, but to our dismay it was full, in fact there was not space for another 2 weeks! There was no way that any of us would want to be in this hell hole for another 2 weeks or could afford it. So we parked ourselves in front of the Air Panama office. Tom magically found some confiscated gas cannisters for our little stove in the office and we chowed down some 3 minute noodles as we discussed our options over many hours as to how we could get out of this mess. While looking homeless and desperate on the street corner we were approached by an off duty military guy who offered to take us to the closest town on his boat the next day. We obviously jumped at the opportunity, he even bought us a beer each, but our confidence dwindled as we watched him get more and more drunk in the local pub throughout the day.
In the late afternoon Tom had the bright idea that we should fish for our dinner, after-all we had no idea how long we would be stuck for and needed to save some $$$. So we caught crabs and snails, bought fishing reel and tried our luck over the pier. Unfortunately, we had no success and dinner ended up being another bowl of pasta complete with tinned veg. The people of this town have no available fresh food - lacking in vitamins and surrounded by military it's no wonder they are so miserable!
Attempting to fish for dinner
Hours spent deliberating our next move
We slept in $3 a night accom complete with rats and mossies. Waking early and glad to be getting out of this town, we waited for a couple of hours for our 'Captain', but to no avail. He was most probably nursing a massive hangover. So back to square one to try and work out a way out.
Luckily in the afternoon, our escape from Puerto Obaldia came in the form of 2 Argentines and a hilarious girl from Holland who kept everyone's spirits up by doing yoga on the beach in front of the militaries and chatting to every local that she passed no matter how unapproachable they were. With 7 people, a boat driver would take us on a 7 hour journey across the choppy Caribbean seas to the first town with a road. At $100 a pop our driver was raking in the cash, knowing full well that we had no other options available to us. At this point though we did not care, we just needed to get somewhere with roads and cash machines.
Outdoor gyms are everywhere in this part of the world
After 2 nights and days of stress and malnutrition we headed out on a bumpy speed boat towards civilization and through the beautiful San Blas islands, voted one of the top tropical destinations in the world. Unfortunately we did not have the money to stay on the islands, but this was serious robinson crusoe territory - islands consisting of a couple of palm trees and white deserted sands. Pure paradise after a harrowing 48+ hrs.
The Kuna Yala indigenous groups inhabit the San Blas islands, wearing the most vibrant dress
The island toilets - a drop straight into the sea!
So happy to be on our way to Panama City!
Amazing story!
ReplyDeleteStill can't believe how you guys made it back!