Panama

It was raining when I woke up in Capurgana and waited on the dock to get the lift for Puerto Obaldia. The 6 of us finally left on a small boat for the 45 minute ride. It was actually really beautiful along the way and seeing the Panamanian flag flying from a mountaintop when we entered Panamanian waters was like something out of a dream..mainly because I thought I'd be rotting in a Colombian jail by now and never see it.

The immigration procedure there was pretty easy and straightforward. I just needed to find that AirPanama "building" which was pretty much just 4 walls with a desk and a scale. When I got there they were weighing everyone's things..and their bodies which is when I realized this was going to be a different type of flight. When I put my bag on the scale, I found out that it was indeed 60 pounds and that, with my small bag and guitar, I was carrying a total of 75 pounds. The limit per person was 25 pounds. Usually in a situation like this you pay some kind of fee for your overage and then you're good to go. However, they kept calling this plane an "avioneta." It literally could not carry more than a certain amount of weight because doing so would be dangerous and possibly cause my tragic, untimely death. Myself and the other people waiting for the plane were told that we had to leave all of the excess baggage there in Puerto Obaldia and that it would come on the next plane out of Colombia on Tuesday. This caused chaos and a screaming match between the Mexicans that were trying to get on and the Puerto Obaldians working the desk at Air Panama. It soon became clear that I might not get out of Colombia (again) if I didn't do it since homegirl was not budging on the weight thing. I packed my small daypack with the essentials and resigned myself to the throes of fate..hoping to see my big backpack again. I also found out that I weigh 198 pounds apparently. I've lost 12 pounds since being here and eat nothing but crap every day. South America: The Diet of Lazy People.

The plane, of course, didn't leave until 1:30 (it was supposed to leave at 9:40 am) and so I had to make myself at home in Puerto Obaldia. Thank god I was only there for a few hours. Puerto Obaldia literally is nothing. A few shacks, one restaurant, one tienda and a ramshacle building that was the headquarters for Air Panama. Good news came when we were about to leave. The plane wasn't full, none of the passengers were obese and so there was weight left for all of our bags which definitely reduced the tension among everybody.

The plane showed up and it looked like the one that Ritchie Valens died in in La Bamba. I told this to the Colombian next to me. He said "Oh, don't worry, if the plane falls, they can find it." Not mentioning the fact that we'd probably be dead when they found it I said, "oh, well That's good news." The flight turned out fine of course and we went thru one of the most complex Immigration procedures ever to enter a country. Two interviews and 3 different entry points until we got to the place we needed. The Colombian guy with us (me, the two mexicanas, a belgiumer and an american and argentian couple) directed us onto a system of buses and taxis and we finally found a place to stay at Hospedage Casco Viejo in the city's old sector. I've been speaking nothing but Spanish all day and I think my brain is about to implode. I definitely need to be doing this more.