Well, not all of us, but certainly some and most certainly me - was for my fate to be decided by the powers that be based on the other side of the world about the remainder of my Austrian life. Ask and ye shall receive; as hoped, I will be extending my time here by another 4 months - more money, more time. I'm happy, my friends here are happy, and my parents get more time to do their home renovations. So they should too be happy but I am not sure. Apartment also sorted, so now just the flights to be fixed. I'll lose money there, but will make it up with extra salary. Exact leaving date to be determined, but it will be some time in August.
Anyway, a huge relief also in that I don't have to figure out to pack an 87 sq. m. apartment into a broken 64 L backpack anytime soon.
And since I've been stuck here now almost an entire month (!), its time to start making all my lofty plans for everything I want to do before I leave. Morroco flights gone too expensive, I'll need to find another Easter destination, so any thoughts are welcome! leaning towards Turkey, middle east, etc. something poss in 4 days. Going tomorrow to get my passport sorted out (massive shocker here, its full!), so I can finally put an end to the delerium tremens i'm experiencing from the recent lack of travel! Cos sometimes, you just need to get OUT.
As the news came Thursday, there was some time for celebrations with friends this past weekend and we had a top night out, so its not been all too bleak staying here at the weekends! Hopefully some travel stories coming soon....
18 February, 2008
11 February, 2008
Of Elevators and Epiphanies - random thoughts that want out!
ok, perhaps Epiphany is maybe not the right word for something which is actually just a rediscovery of that which I have known for years (coming from someone with enough lifestyle changes to cover a century), but I went with it anyway for the purpose of alliteration in the title, har har.
Moving on then...(ok, this will also come out as a bit of a pun after, so getting all variations of speech in here!), but at my office, there are 2 types of lifts; which I will call the regular milk run service (i.e., stopping at every floor), and the express - which, when taken, is a direct ride to the top of the building. Which is where I work (fortunate for things like the gorgeous view, including sunsets at this time of year, and unfortunate for things like the non-express milk run lift and when hurricane-style winds hit).
This morning when I arrived, as usual (although I did arrive early, which is highly unusual), I pressed the button for both lifts. One of the normal ones gave its 'bing' arrival signal, although owing to early hour on Monday morning, I did not immediately realise and got to it just in time to see the doors clamp shut in front of my face with unwelcome efficiency, before i could either do the arm intervention or last minute button press. Typical, I thought (these melancholy mondays, tch), as no one really likes having doors shut on them, especially right in their face like this.
However, almost immediately after this one left, the lofty express made its presence known; which meant, I would get the better and more efficient option after all.
And all sorts of clichés went through my mind; first and foremost the obvious; when one door closes on you, another one opens. And, as was the case today (literally and figuratively speaking in my case), the new door opening was far and away better than the old one closing. And, that something happening that seems like a bad thing, may end up leaving you better off. Patience pays. (yeah, its a tall enough building for all these thoughts to pass through). Arriving to a sunrise after being in the dark for a while...another symbolic sort of thing along these lines.
Most of this is now prevalent to me, as I'm reaching the end of my time here; closing that door; and hoping for better things behind that new one which will be opening (and to not hover in that old closed door at all..for as I once heard, people who hover in doorways aren't coming from anywhere, nor or are they going anywhere). And at this point, I'd hate to be on the latter end of that spectrum.
So. Maybe a little coincidence, maybe I'm just a little too sleep deprived, or maybe, its time to start putting to fruition the next step. And putting it down in words, maybe this commits me somehow. So yes. No more playing on facebook today; It's time to do some research and put my plan for a new life in the sun, water and warmth - people and weather (ie, polar opposite of here!) into play. Onward and upward - the tunnel may now be longer but there is a light at the end of it nevertheless.
(nb: own random thoughts, but hopefully might encourage others in the same boat as I am ;-))
Moving on then...(ok, this will also come out as a bit of a pun after, so getting all variations of speech in here!), but at my office, there are 2 types of lifts; which I will call the regular milk run service (i.e., stopping at every floor), and the express - which, when taken, is a direct ride to the top of the building. Which is where I work (fortunate for things like the gorgeous view, including sunsets at this time of year, and unfortunate for things like the non-express milk run lift and when hurricane-style winds hit).
This morning when I arrived, as usual (although I did arrive early, which is highly unusual), I pressed the button for both lifts. One of the normal ones gave its 'bing' arrival signal, although owing to early hour on Monday morning, I did not immediately realise and got to it just in time to see the doors clamp shut in front of my face with unwelcome efficiency, before i could either do the arm intervention or last minute button press. Typical, I thought (these melancholy mondays, tch), as no one really likes having doors shut on them, especially right in their face like this.
However, almost immediately after this one left, the lofty express made its presence known; which meant, I would get the better and more efficient option after all.
And all sorts of clichés went through my mind; first and foremost the obvious; when one door closes on you, another one opens. And, as was the case today (literally and figuratively speaking in my case), the new door opening was far and away better than the old one closing. And, that something happening that seems like a bad thing, may end up leaving you better off. Patience pays. (yeah, its a tall enough building for all these thoughts to pass through). Arriving to a sunrise after being in the dark for a while...another symbolic sort of thing along these lines.
Most of this is now prevalent to me, as I'm reaching the end of my time here; closing that door; and hoping for better things behind that new one which will be opening (and to not hover in that old closed door at all..for as I once heard, people who hover in doorways aren't coming from anywhere, nor or are they going anywhere). And at this point, I'd hate to be on the latter end of that spectrum.
So. Maybe a little coincidence, maybe I'm just a little too sleep deprived, or maybe, its time to start putting to fruition the next step. And putting it down in words, maybe this commits me somehow. So yes. No more playing on facebook today; It's time to do some research and put my plan for a new life in the sun, water and warmth - people and weather (ie, polar opposite of here!) into play. Onward and upward - the tunnel may now be longer but there is a light at the end of it nevertheless.
(nb: own random thoughts, but hopefully might encourage others in the same boat as I am ;-))
Sunrise: Into the light
22 January, 2008
Breakfast and Cocktails
Panama City, 17 January.
Woke up at 7:00, and just had one of those bad feelings about the day. Which, is not exactly what one wants to have when they are about to board an international flight. I shook it off, and summed it up to the fact I realised the night before that during my *brilliant* packing efforts in LA, I had forgotten my driving license..yet had a hire car booked for collection at LAX. Which meant my plan of not inconveniencing my poor sister had fallen through.
Chuck, from Fresno and Richard, from Seattle, had, just in a random act of traveller kindness, given me their phone cards, saying they won't be needing them ( har har snicker snicker), so I rang my sister and all was well for her to come to the airport with my license in hand. sorted.
Our flight was initially delayed a half hour - no problem, still have ages to make the connection in Mexico city. Think will just have a little sleep...awoke to see on the board the flight was now 4 hours delayed. Which of course, meant myself and clearly others would be missing connections and went immediately to join the growing crowd at the desk.
And it was then I met 2 more saviours of this trip - Gianni, born in Panama, living in LA and very recently married to Perry, a set designer on the films (I'll be watching the credits for ya Perry!).
We were given a choice; we could either stay in Panama that night, and have another go at the whole thing in the morning, or, we could wait for this flight, get to Mexico and get to LA the following morning. wanting to be closer rather than further to our destination, the majority of us opted for that choice. And with that off to lunch we went.
And such an *amazing variety* of food choices in the Panama City airport. The one cafe was very crowded, and all of us having done the drill knew to choose at least 4 things on the menu for surely they would be out, and they were. As we sat there we met more people, and all recounted dire tales - prison (read below), illness, hospitals...at which point, I was just like, wow, I have had the best trip EVER. I have NO complaints whatsoever, and I am very very BORING! hah! I mean, seriously...I did not even get mugged or robbed! I did not witness any motorcycle accidents that involved death. I did not even have stomach issues! All I had was a budding cold that disappeared after some vitamin C and a day's rest. what's up with that?
Anyhow. Back to the gate at 3pm. No sign that this flight is going anywhere anytime soon, and finally we found out the reason; the plane was missing something. That is very comforting, really. And they are supposedley working on it. Yeah, right, from where, the secret airline employee cocktail bar? As there was no sign of work being done on the aircraft bearing our luggage out on the tarmac. So now, maybe 7pm. Back to the michelin 5 star restaraunt for round 2. we could all order the one other thing on the menu that we did not have last time. hopefully we wouldnt be stuck here long or this could get old rather quickly!
By this time Perry had gone round to duty free and picked up a bottle of Bacardi (along with very convenient carry/pour hybrid box!), and I would have to say this is the moment at which our airline distress passenger club was formed - original membership being Chuck, Richard, myself, Gianni and Perry. We had quite a laugh actually, doling out the rum into Cuba libres and strawberry daiquiries. which, went quite well with Richard's breakfast (at 5pm, sure, why not?), and thus the name of the title of this entry.
We also came up with such brilliant business ideas, like services for airline distress passengers (which, is a term i picked up from a hotel sign back at the Ramada at JFK, when I was in a similar situation!), which would include of course, a cocktail bar. With annual meetings in none other than Panama City.
Called back round to the gate at 7-ish..by this time a former Mexican Airforce/Military Man started giving us the lo-down on the parts of the plane, saying it wasn't likely going to happen tonight. and only moments later, one of the *wonderfully helpful* representatives appeared, announcing, in Spanish, we will not be flying tonight.
Pandemonium in the Panama Airport.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after that(ie, the day I was meant to be in LA and catching a flight back to Vienna....f*** the duck!). I know this because Gianni, our translator and spokesperson, announced it to Perry, who was holding the fort at base camp (our collectoin of bags and commandeered seats), and he shouted out 'WHAAAT!!!??!', which brought the bickering crowd to a halt. Momentarily. Considering Gianni and Perry had waited 2 weeks to get on this flight, the chances of getting on one in the near future were looking a bit bleak...
And then, the one representative who was actually somewhat in charge and helpful, announced there were 4 seats on another flight, and just took a random group of 4, whose final destination was presumably Mexico, and voila! At this point we had resigned ourselves to staying at least one night there, had more dreams about cocktails, and I began to work out the details of how I would eventually get me...and my luggage (half on the dead plane in Panama, half of it..unpacked..in LA)..back to Vienna, and in time to start work the following monday morning.
but then in a rather clandestine manner, the same helpful man came out and said there were now seats on the COPA flight, leaving immediately. I guess in that moment I was voted most desparate in our distressed airline passenger group since I had the furthest to go, and was told run! run! which I did, and with one of Gianni's cases in tow...in a very dramatic moment arriving at the COPA flight gate, only to realise...I probably had the least spanish out of everyone. Perry and Gianni arrived seconds later, and Perry handed over my passport and boarding pass, said I needed to be on this flight as i had to get to Austria, and I was booked and ready to go....minus my new crew though. We said a quick goodbye with hugs all round and I boarded the flight.
Sitting there on my own, realising; this will get into Mexico City around midnight. and from another horror story Gianni told regarding a friend of hers...I would likely be kicked out from the closing terminal, and highly doubted that the Mexicana service person would be there as promised to take me to the hotel. But lady luck came through just this once, and after some minutes, I first saw Richard board, slowly followed by Chuck, Gianni and Perry, and I tell you after all this drama, this was one of the happiest moments of the trip. we all gave each other thumbs up signs and relaxed all the way to mexico.
Mexico City. Of course owing to the last minute change, our luggage did not join us.
The customs official took issue with this.
'You came here with no luggage?!?!?'
'yeah..[insert non-annotated version of story]'
and of course no one was to be found to give us info on the hotel. After much questioning of security, etc. by Gianni, we were finally transported to Terminal 1 and met by someone who insisted on dealing with each of us individually rather than having our spokesperson, Gianni the superstar, do it. By this time we were joined by Thomas and Gilbert, 2 surfers trying to get back to DC and LA, as well as a confused looking Colombian.
We got to the hotel some time I think around half past one. Airport bus at 5.30. The shower felt like heaven but my 2 hours of sleep were disturbed with dreams of being stranded (can't figure why I would dream that), but in a jungle somewhere annd having all my things stolen.
Back to sort out the fact that a lot of our onward boarding passes had been taken by the staff at Panama, and in the case of Chuck and Richard, luggage tags too. trying to sort all that out, running up and down the terminal. Any worries I had about not getting any exercise were instantly gone. I met up with Thomas, Gilbert, Perry and Gianni at the luggage office, who of course had no idea where our bags were. 'Panama?'. the confused Colombian stayed to sort his stuff out, but we called defeat and said we'd sort it out in LA.
Had some more shenanigans locating our gate, and getting breakfast, which ended up in myself and Gilbert having some more morning airport sport with a little sunrise jog through the terminal. We boarded our flight, hi-fiving each other the whole way and frighteningly ecstatic to see LA through the windows. Some of us were finally home. Some of us...had another 14 hours ahead.
Customs was fun.
'How long you here for?'
'One day'
'you came here just for ONE DAY? oh sure..'
[the most deadpan tone i am capable of] 'was here for christmas, went travelling to central america for 3 weeks and tomorrow must fly back to Austria, where I currently live'
(this I knew was already far too much informatoin to be processed. waited appropriate amount of time for processing).
'so, MONROVIA? what are you going to do there? (very suspicious tone)'
'my sister lives there (wince..expecting same line of interrogation my youngest sister Dana got when she arrived, being accused that Jen, our sister in LA, was living there illegally and Dana was coming to smuggle her back into Canada)'.
thankfully no such accusatoin came.
then of course the issue of no luggage.
'you came here with no luggage?' (minus the latin emphasis of the mexican customs guy)
'yeah...[insert non-annotated version of story]'
'oh, its still with the airline, is it?'
(to thomas and gilbert) 'what were you guys doing down in...PANAMA?'
'a lot of surfing'
Passed Perry and Gianni on the way, already tucking into the cocktails before the next scene from our new film, Terminal: the horror version, and without Tom Hanks. Revisit scene: THE LUGGAGE.
we were informed it was coming at 11pm that evening. But because the delivery service doesn't work past then, maybe we can get it the next morning/afternoon! A bit hard to believe, and Thomas held hard with the case of getting another delivery service, whilst I recalled having some lost luggage delivered to me in Vienna at 1 am one time... a City which is far less the hub LA is and does not at all hinge on good service most of the time. So what was the problem? was this not, after all, the mighty city of Los Angeles?
This was also a problem for me, cos I needed to send the contents in there to Canada, and fill it with the remaining things lying about my sisters floor, for the next in the series of around the world in 80 hours, and be back at the airport for no later than midday. well, i can stop by and pick it up..but even if the airline were wiling to let me check 3 bags...I doubted i could manage this on my own upon arrival in Vienna. Plus for anyone who has any geographical knowledge of the LA area..you don't just 'stop by' from where my sister lives, in Monrovia - the drive can take up to 2 hours in traffic, and one if its a good day. Plus as she graciously offered to tote me around for the 24 hours I was there, I said sod it to the hire car and navigating the LA freeways after all that and certainly didn't need to be having her drive me out there in the middle of the night and again the next morning.
the weight of the bags rivalled my own, and I know I went a bit too heavy on the pancakes, during this trip but I am still not that large a person to be able to handle this. I told them, no, your mistake, send the bag then to Vienna, and to my apartment, as I know from extensive lost luggage experience here, that is standard. I didn't want to see it coming off the belt at VIE!
Thomas and Gilbert had another issue; they had checked the boards under one guy, the luggage under another - so they had no idea whose was whose, but Gilbert was to remain in LA while Thomas went on to DC the following morning. As far as I know, they had to call round back to the airport in the middle of the night to get it.
as for me...sure, call us at this number with your flight details with Lufthansa. Ring number later. no answer. leave message. was not called back. ring again. still no answer. still not called back.
Go check in for Lufthansa flight next day, with 2 bags (one borrowed from my sister for the excess). Then go down to sort this m'larky out. and what to do they do? give me my bag. aaaaeegh. I tell them, no, I have already requested this be sent on to Vienna. This is pretty standard! I have already checked 2 bags with Lufthansa, and they ought to know better than I, that that is the limit.
Well, did I not ask Lufthansa to make an exception?
At least in the end they agreeed to send it. I asked 3 times that they ensure it will be sent according to lost luggage procedure (ie, delivered to my place). Got snark reminder I had said it already, but lets face it, clearly these people had listening issues.
and to put paid any credit to that.. guess what was one of the first pieces on the belt at VIE? without any instruction whatsoever that had been promised? and who carried on the bus, on the street, up all my blasted stairs, all this luggage? Oh, and I have not yet mentioned that it was broken luggage, from the flight on the way in. Guess I ahve also not mentioned that during this debacle, my phone had gone AWOL - even though I had thought to make a distress call to a friend here for help, I didn't have the phone, nor anyone's numbers.
I will not anytime soon (as in like, the next 100 years) fly with Mexicana and certainly don't advise anyone else to either. There were worse stories than mine of course, like how they had no wheelchairs for Gianni's mother on another flight, and had to carry her..and ended up dropping her! and her friend, a single mother with 3 kids, who was kicked out of the terminal late at night (owing to another delay). Or the woman accompanying a nun, who were also enquiring about luggage - cos they lost the Nun's luggage A YEAR ago!
but, the bright side (there's always gotta be one, right?), I ended up meeting some of the most brilliant people on the whole trip! Its really amazing how such circumstances can bring people together, and we all just got on so well, and had no choice most of the time but to laugh about it (in between our rotating meltdowns, of course...but at least we supported each other with those as well), especially over discreetly 'home-made' cocktails in some little airport cafe.
I laughed more than I had in a good long time and heard some great stories to boot, and will hopefully remain in contact for more than just coordinating our very long complaint forms for this trip!
And guys (Perry, Gianni, Chuck, Richard, Thomas, Gilbert), if you've read this, and gotten this far....how'd y'all feel about a big ol' reunion of this club? I hear Panama's a great destination. We'll just get Chuck to sort out the coordinates on his GPS, shall we? ;-) just kidding...
Alls well that ends well....I am back in Vienna, with everything I brought out, and more. I met some fantastic people owing to this. and I have a newfound appreciation of Lufthansa and of the Frankfurt Airport. That flight and transfer was like a dream!
And, as I have just found out, my flights to Morroco for the end of my time here in Vienna were just cancelled...suits me fine, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon!!!
Cheers and until the final entry....
Woke up at 7:00, and just had one of those bad feelings about the day. Which, is not exactly what one wants to have when they are about to board an international flight. I shook it off, and summed it up to the fact I realised the night before that during my *brilliant* packing efforts in LA, I had forgotten my driving license..yet had a hire car booked for collection at LAX. Which meant my plan of not inconveniencing my poor sister had fallen through.
Chuck, from Fresno and Richard, from Seattle, had, just in a random act of traveller kindness, given me their phone cards, saying they won't be needing them ( har har snicker snicker), so I rang my sister and all was well for her to come to the airport with my license in hand. sorted.
Our flight was initially delayed a half hour - no problem, still have ages to make the connection in Mexico city. Think will just have a little sleep...awoke to see on the board the flight was now 4 hours delayed. Which of course, meant myself and clearly others would be missing connections and went immediately to join the growing crowd at the desk.
And it was then I met 2 more saviours of this trip - Gianni, born in Panama, living in LA and very recently married to Perry, a set designer on the films (I'll be watching the credits for ya Perry!).
We were given a choice; we could either stay in Panama that night, and have another go at the whole thing in the morning, or, we could wait for this flight, get to Mexico and get to LA the following morning. wanting to be closer rather than further to our destination, the majority of us opted for that choice. And with that off to lunch we went.
And such an *amazing variety* of food choices in the Panama City airport. The one cafe was very crowded, and all of us having done the drill knew to choose at least 4 things on the menu for surely they would be out, and they were. As we sat there we met more people, and all recounted dire tales - prison (read below), illness, hospitals...at which point, I was just like, wow, I have had the best trip EVER. I have NO complaints whatsoever, and I am very very BORING! hah! I mean, seriously...I did not even get mugged or robbed! I did not witness any motorcycle accidents that involved death. I did not even have stomach issues! All I had was a budding cold that disappeared after some vitamin C and a day's rest. what's up with that?
Anyhow. Back to the gate at 3pm. No sign that this flight is going anywhere anytime soon, and finally we found out the reason; the plane was missing something. That is very comforting, really. And they are supposedley working on it. Yeah, right, from where, the secret airline employee cocktail bar? As there was no sign of work being done on the aircraft bearing our luggage out on the tarmac. So now, maybe 7pm. Back to the michelin 5 star restaraunt for round 2. we could all order the one other thing on the menu that we did not have last time. hopefully we wouldnt be stuck here long or this could get old rather quickly!
By this time Perry had gone round to duty free and picked up a bottle of Bacardi (along with very convenient carry/pour hybrid box!), and I would have to say this is the moment at which our airline distress passenger club was formed - original membership being Chuck, Richard, myself, Gianni and Perry. We had quite a laugh actually, doling out the rum into Cuba libres and strawberry daiquiries. which, went quite well with Richard's breakfast (at 5pm, sure, why not?), and thus the name of the title of this entry.
We also came up with such brilliant business ideas, like services for airline distress passengers (which, is a term i picked up from a hotel sign back at the Ramada at JFK, when I was in a similar situation!), which would include of course, a cocktail bar. With annual meetings in none other than Panama City.
Called back round to the gate at 7-ish..by this time a former Mexican Airforce/Military Man started giving us the lo-down on the parts of the plane, saying it wasn't likely going to happen tonight. and only moments later, one of the *wonderfully helpful* representatives appeared, announcing, in Spanish, we will not be flying tonight.
Pandemonium in the Panama Airport.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after that(ie, the day I was meant to be in LA and catching a flight back to Vienna....f*** the duck!). I know this because Gianni, our translator and spokesperson, announced it to Perry, who was holding the fort at base camp (our collectoin of bags and commandeered seats), and he shouted out 'WHAAAT!!!??!', which brought the bickering crowd to a halt. Momentarily. Considering Gianni and Perry had waited 2 weeks to get on this flight, the chances of getting on one in the near future were looking a bit bleak...
And then, the one representative who was actually somewhat in charge and helpful, announced there were 4 seats on another flight, and just took a random group of 4, whose final destination was presumably Mexico, and voila! At this point we had resigned ourselves to staying at least one night there, had more dreams about cocktails, and I began to work out the details of how I would eventually get me...and my luggage (half on the dead plane in Panama, half of it..unpacked..in LA)..back to Vienna, and in time to start work the following monday morning.
but then in a rather clandestine manner, the same helpful man came out and said there were now seats on the COPA flight, leaving immediately. I guess in that moment I was voted most desparate in our distressed airline passenger group since I had the furthest to go, and was told run! run! which I did, and with one of Gianni's cases in tow...in a very dramatic moment arriving at the COPA flight gate, only to realise...I probably had the least spanish out of everyone. Perry and Gianni arrived seconds later, and Perry handed over my passport and boarding pass, said I needed to be on this flight as i had to get to Austria, and I was booked and ready to go....minus my new crew though. We said a quick goodbye with hugs all round and I boarded the flight.
Sitting there on my own, realising; this will get into Mexico City around midnight. and from another horror story Gianni told regarding a friend of hers...I would likely be kicked out from the closing terminal, and highly doubted that the Mexicana service person would be there as promised to take me to the hotel. But lady luck came through just this once, and after some minutes, I first saw Richard board, slowly followed by Chuck, Gianni and Perry, and I tell you after all this drama, this was one of the happiest moments of the trip. we all gave each other thumbs up signs and relaxed all the way to mexico.
Mexico City. Of course owing to the last minute change, our luggage did not join us.
The customs official took issue with this.
'You came here with no luggage?!?!?'
'yeah..[insert non-annotated version of story]'
and of course no one was to be found to give us info on the hotel. After much questioning of security, etc. by Gianni, we were finally transported to Terminal 1 and met by someone who insisted on dealing with each of us individually rather than having our spokesperson, Gianni the superstar, do it. By this time we were joined by Thomas and Gilbert, 2 surfers trying to get back to DC and LA, as well as a confused looking Colombian.
We got to the hotel some time I think around half past one. Airport bus at 5.30. The shower felt like heaven but my 2 hours of sleep were disturbed with dreams of being stranded (can't figure why I would dream that), but in a jungle somewhere annd having all my things stolen.
Back to sort out the fact that a lot of our onward boarding passes had been taken by the staff at Panama, and in the case of Chuck and Richard, luggage tags too. trying to sort all that out, running up and down the terminal. Any worries I had about not getting any exercise were instantly gone. I met up with Thomas, Gilbert, Perry and Gianni at the luggage office, who of course had no idea where our bags were. 'Panama?'. the confused Colombian stayed to sort his stuff out, but we called defeat and said we'd sort it out in LA.
Had some more shenanigans locating our gate, and getting breakfast, which ended up in myself and Gilbert having some more morning airport sport with a little sunrise jog through the terminal. We boarded our flight, hi-fiving each other the whole way and frighteningly ecstatic to see LA through the windows. Some of us were finally home. Some of us...had another 14 hours ahead.
Customs was fun.
'How long you here for?'
'One day'
'you came here just for ONE DAY? oh sure..'
[the most deadpan tone i am capable of] 'was here for christmas, went travelling to central america for 3 weeks and tomorrow must fly back to Austria, where I currently live'
(this I knew was already far too much informatoin to be processed. waited appropriate amount of time for processing).
'so, MONROVIA? what are you going to do there? (very suspicious tone)'
'my sister lives there (wince..expecting same line of interrogation my youngest sister Dana got when she arrived, being accused that Jen, our sister in LA, was living there illegally and Dana was coming to smuggle her back into Canada)'.
thankfully no such accusatoin came.
then of course the issue of no luggage.
'you came here with no luggage?' (minus the latin emphasis of the mexican customs guy)
'yeah...[insert non-annotated version of story]'
'oh, its still with the airline, is it?'
(to thomas and gilbert) 'what were you guys doing down in...PANAMA?'
'a lot of surfing'
Passed Perry and Gianni on the way, already tucking into the cocktails before the next scene from our new film, Terminal: the horror version, and without Tom Hanks. Revisit scene: THE LUGGAGE.
we were informed it was coming at 11pm that evening. But because the delivery service doesn't work past then, maybe we can get it the next morning/afternoon! A bit hard to believe, and Thomas held hard with the case of getting another delivery service, whilst I recalled having some lost luggage delivered to me in Vienna at 1 am one time... a City which is far less the hub LA is and does not at all hinge on good service most of the time. So what was the problem? was this not, after all, the mighty city of Los Angeles?
This was also a problem for me, cos I needed to send the contents in there to Canada, and fill it with the remaining things lying about my sisters floor, for the next in the series of around the world in 80 hours, and be back at the airport for no later than midday. well, i can stop by and pick it up..but even if the airline were wiling to let me check 3 bags...I doubted i could manage this on my own upon arrival in Vienna. Plus for anyone who has any geographical knowledge of the LA area..you don't just 'stop by' from where my sister lives, in Monrovia - the drive can take up to 2 hours in traffic, and one if its a good day. Plus as she graciously offered to tote me around for the 24 hours I was there, I said sod it to the hire car and navigating the LA freeways after all that and certainly didn't need to be having her drive me out there in the middle of the night and again the next morning.
the weight of the bags rivalled my own, and I know I went a bit too heavy on the pancakes, during this trip but I am still not that large a person to be able to handle this. I told them, no, your mistake, send the bag then to Vienna, and to my apartment, as I know from extensive lost luggage experience here, that is standard. I didn't want to see it coming off the belt at VIE!
Thomas and Gilbert had another issue; they had checked the boards under one guy, the luggage under another - so they had no idea whose was whose, but Gilbert was to remain in LA while Thomas went on to DC the following morning. As far as I know, they had to call round back to the airport in the middle of the night to get it.
as for me...sure, call us at this number with your flight details with Lufthansa. Ring number later. no answer. leave message. was not called back. ring again. still no answer. still not called back.
Go check in for Lufthansa flight next day, with 2 bags (one borrowed from my sister for the excess). Then go down to sort this m'larky out. and what to do they do? give me my bag. aaaaeegh. I tell them, no, I have already requested this be sent on to Vienna. This is pretty standard! I have already checked 2 bags with Lufthansa, and they ought to know better than I, that that is the limit.
Well, did I not ask Lufthansa to make an exception?
At least in the end they agreeed to send it. I asked 3 times that they ensure it will be sent according to lost luggage procedure (ie, delivered to my place). Got snark reminder I had said it already, but lets face it, clearly these people had listening issues.
and to put paid any credit to that.. guess what was one of the first pieces on the belt at VIE? without any instruction whatsoever that had been promised? and who carried on the bus, on the street, up all my blasted stairs, all this luggage? Oh, and I have not yet mentioned that it was broken luggage, from the flight on the way in. Guess I ahve also not mentioned that during this debacle, my phone had gone AWOL - even though I had thought to make a distress call to a friend here for help, I didn't have the phone, nor anyone's numbers.
I will not anytime soon (as in like, the next 100 years) fly with Mexicana and certainly don't advise anyone else to either. There were worse stories than mine of course, like how they had no wheelchairs for Gianni's mother on another flight, and had to carry her..and ended up dropping her! and her friend, a single mother with 3 kids, who was kicked out of the terminal late at night (owing to another delay). Or the woman accompanying a nun, who were also enquiring about luggage - cos they lost the Nun's luggage A YEAR ago!
but, the bright side (there's always gotta be one, right?), I ended up meeting some of the most brilliant people on the whole trip! Its really amazing how such circumstances can bring people together, and we all just got on so well, and had no choice most of the time but to laugh about it (in between our rotating meltdowns, of course...but at least we supported each other with those as well), especially over discreetly 'home-made' cocktails in some little airport cafe.
I laughed more than I had in a good long time and heard some great stories to boot, and will hopefully remain in contact for more than just coordinating our very long complaint forms for this trip!
And guys (Perry, Gianni, Chuck, Richard, Thomas, Gilbert), if you've read this, and gotten this far....how'd y'all feel about a big ol' reunion of this club? I hear Panama's a great destination. We'll just get Chuck to sort out the coordinates on his GPS, shall we? ;-) just kidding...
Alls well that ends well....I am back in Vienna, with everything I brought out, and more. I met some fantastic people owing to this. and I have a newfound appreciation of Lufthansa and of the Frankfurt Airport. That flight and transfer was like a dream!
And, as I have just found out, my flights to Morroco for the end of my time here in Vienna were just cancelled...suits me fine, I'm not going anywhere anytime soon!!!
Cheers and until the final entry....
Arroz con Pollo (the best story I heard from someone else on the entire trip)
OK, so I am cheating a little here, and this (thankfully!) is not my own experience, but rather that of Chuck and Richard, 2 members of the distressed airline passenger club, the formation of which will be noted in the next post. However, amongst the many great and interesting travel stories I heard, this one takes the cake and thus I've got to add it as well. Chuck and Richard, if i get it wrong at all, please feel free to comment!
Basically, as I can recall it goes a little something like 2 innocent American guys following their hobby of geocaching, with the aid of a GPS. The site they were aiming for was this sort of mountain, in the environs of Panama City - the one with the giant flag on it is the only way that I will know it, as with my limited time I did not make up it any Panamanian mountains. maybe better so..
so with just their coordinates to guide them (and the clue 'arroz con pollo' - rice and chicken), they set off, only to be stopped by armed guards during their pursuit, at which point Chuck tells them they are looking for treasure, and something about the 'travel bug' implanted in the GPS, which somehow got misunderstood for them wanting to plant a bug in the president's residence. Ah yes...this I did not mention yet, and this they did not know at the start, but on this mountain was the true president's residence, not the palace in the old city. heeeugh. they were taken to this guard shack, and there, in a cage was a chicken. so according to the clue, they were right anyway!
The exact details here I can't recall, but it ends up with our 2 heroes being detained, as the problem is, Colombian drug runners are now using GPS for someone to hide the drugs, and another to collect them several weeks later....however, it is important to note, they were not actually arrested, but just detained...and the 'help' from their embassy came in the form of 'Don and Dean', who were not actually from the embassy but there to 'translate', yet had done all the checks on them and knew who they were. throughout the next 24 hours they were repeatedly interrogated and accused of being in cahoots with Colombian drug lords. In order to get food, they had to pay for all the guards to eat as well. At one point a very large, brick shithouse type guy (who was later called just 'mr. shithouse' by Perry, a fellow airline distress passenger to be mentioned in next entry) comes in saying he could be 'their friend' and they could call at any time, if, you know, the story changed at all....
But the best bit - was the television. In their little detention room they had a TV, and of all shows...they were watching....(wait for it)...PRISON BREAK!!! With a guard who spoke a bit of English telling them 'We like that here...'.
Thankfully 24 hours later, they were released, and thus able to enjoy a bit of Panama (huh), and give us the pleasure of meeting them, if also not under the greatest circumstances.
Again, totally not my story but a great one that cannot be allowed to slip through the net...Chuck and Richard, thanks for sharing and hope that you have better luck with your next geocache sites.....;-)
Basically, as I can recall it goes a little something like 2 innocent American guys following their hobby of geocaching, with the aid of a GPS. The site they were aiming for was this sort of mountain, in the environs of Panama City - the one with the giant flag on it is the only way that I will know it, as with my limited time I did not make up it any Panamanian mountains. maybe better so..
so with just their coordinates to guide them (and the clue 'arroz con pollo' - rice and chicken), they set off, only to be stopped by armed guards during their pursuit, at which point Chuck tells them they are looking for treasure, and something about the 'travel bug' implanted in the GPS, which somehow got misunderstood for them wanting to plant a bug in the president's residence. Ah yes...this I did not mention yet, and this they did not know at the start, but on this mountain was the true president's residence, not the palace in the old city. heeeugh. they were taken to this guard shack, and there, in a cage was a chicken. so according to the clue, they were right anyway!
The exact details here I can't recall, but it ends up with our 2 heroes being detained, as the problem is, Colombian drug runners are now using GPS for someone to hide the drugs, and another to collect them several weeks later....however, it is important to note, they were not actually arrested, but just detained...and the 'help' from their embassy came in the form of 'Don and Dean', who were not actually from the embassy but there to 'translate', yet had done all the checks on them and knew who they were. throughout the next 24 hours they were repeatedly interrogated and accused of being in cahoots with Colombian drug lords. In order to get food, they had to pay for all the guards to eat as well. At one point a very large, brick shithouse type guy (who was later called just 'mr. shithouse' by Perry, a fellow airline distress passenger to be mentioned in next entry) comes in saying he could be 'their friend' and they could call at any time, if, you know, the story changed at all....
But the best bit - was the television. In their little detention room they had a TV, and of all shows...they were watching....(wait for it)...PRISON BREAK!!! With a guard who spoke a bit of English telling them 'We like that here...'.
Thankfully 24 hours later, they were released, and thus able to enjoy a bit of Panama (huh), and give us the pleasure of meeting them, if also not under the greatest circumstances.
Again, totally not my story but a great one that cannot be allowed to slip through the net...Chuck and Richard, thanks for sharing and hope that you have better luck with your next geocache sites.....;-)
20 January, 2008
Party all the time
Ok, the last few days have been...eventful. That is a good word. So its gonna be a bunch of separate blog entries to keep all my lovely faithful readers (hah!) faithfully reading rather than falling asleep at the keyboard and drooling all over it.
This one will be for Panama City. To me, this city was such a vast improvement over San Jose, and although I have never been, I could see why some say remniscient of Miami. Of course I had a dodgy taxi driver though who tried to take me to another hotel (a boring expensive looking one in not a great location) where he clearly got commissoin from and then tried to charge me more to take me to the hostel I wanted to stay at. I don't f***ing think so. And the fact he didn't put up much resistance is proof he was overcharging. I hate taxis.
I checked into Mamallena's, which had scored high ratings on hostelworld.com, despite Lonely planet describing the atmosphere as sterile as a hospital waiting room. I wouldn't say that was entirely true, but I am sure a more atmospheric place existed, such as Luna's castle in Casco Viejo, but I wasn't sure about that area at night, whereas the area Mamallena's is in meant I could walk on my own at night with minimal worry. I also found out later that Luna's was closed for renovations so I couldn't have stayed there anyway. everything for a reason.
The staff at Mamallena's were cool, the facilities pretty good (though the terrace could be made a bit more atmospheric, maybe with some of those funny chilli fairy lights or so), but I would have to say, its hit or miss with the people. And for me, it was largely a miss. I was quite disappointed to arrive to a bunch of zoned out space cadets glued to the television with vacant stares. I mean, some were there for HOURS. One has to wonder, why waste the airfare...
However, I was determined; this city was meant to be known for its nightlife, and if it meant kitting up and going on my own to explore it, so be it. But I did find a kindred amongst this decidedly anti social crowd - A great Argentinian girl called Dolores. She was cool, and at first I was disappointed to hear that she was to be flying out that night.
However as our conversation wore on, it was revealed that she did not actually need to leave the hostel until 2 am, so I asked on the offchance if she would join me rather than hang about the hostel and she took me up on it. So I pulled some nicer threads out from the bottom of the backpack, and even put on a bit of makeup (gasp) and the blasted heels I had been travelling with to blend a bit better in the clubs with 'the rich and beautiful' (lonely planet strikes again).
We headed down to Calle Uruguay, which is supposed to be a main going out area of Panama City, and found it quite dead. And also remniscient of Miami. Was wondering if it was me being destined to never party or have fun again. But then we realised, it was just too early for people to be out. we grabbed some food at a little corner diner called Don Blas with a cheap and varied menu, as well as a wrapaound terrace that would allow us to observe the progression of people going into the various clubs. She was great company for dinner, and afterwards we noticed one particular club with a second floor terrace getting busier and decided to give it a go. We had barely walked in when we were set upon by Jim, an obvious American and his Serbian friend whose name eluded me all night. They walked us to the bar to get some drinks and we were introduced to a load of Panamamanians - they were referred to as 'the Panamamanians' and we were 'Canada girl' and 'Argentina girl'. We grabbed some drinks and hung at the bar for a bit, danced it up and that was great. Jim came back later and was doing a pretty good cowboy dance.
To end the night off we went to chill on that terrace in the warm night air (now, there is no way one could ever say that in Vienna..in January!!!), and met Annette, yet another displacement person (Venezuelan, living in...Miami!) and headed back to Mamallena in time for Dolores to get her plane. Top night, I really enjoyed it. Jim had told us that the scene rotates a bit there, and finally, i had hit it right and that was THE place for Tuesdays. He told me where Wednesday's was and said I should meet them there.
The next day was my one and only day to see the city. I woke up early, attempted to make pancakes (but breakfast was more like pancake goo owing to the dodgy frying pan..cos I CAN make pancakes, damnit! note to self, do not do this next day when have international plane to catch).
I still set out rather early though, right as the first slaves of television and internet emerged from their dorms, and on a tip from Dolores, decided the first thing would be the Canal, at the Miraflores locks. I wanted to go by bus on the 'diablos rojos' (red devils), and this was actually a great way to get around the city and dead cheap. I had no idea which one i needed, or where to get off, but i just shouted my destination and they told me correclty when it was time. people on the bus were also helpful, pointing out which stop for me to get off, and then telling me again which bus I needed for Miraflores. Which was definitely impressive. Along the way I gained the company of an Israeli couple and a super hyper Brazilian, who took some photos of me. I caught the sight of one ship leaving and another entering, but with a tight schedule could not linger too long and headed back down to Avenida Central to walk into Casco Viejo and explore it.
Casco Viejo is under a major facelift, and it showed. some buildings were well restored, next to ghetto ones that looked like they had fallen victim to bombs. the area had a beautiful dilapadated feel to it, and was spotted with some stalls selling Kuna items - it was great to poke around. After which I randomly got on a bus that displayed 'Via Espana' and hoped it would go where I needed it to. It came close, and thankfully my lesson from walking back from Calle Uruguay the night before stuck and I made my way back to TV central to wait out a rainstorm before heading to the Mola shop.
Molas are colorful pieces of patch artwork done by the Kuna Indians of Panama and I was obsessed with them. I bought up quite a lot and my Christmas quota had been fulfilled! (well, along with a Balboa lager to add to my colleague Conor's international beer collection from me). I also tried some fruit juice from a fruit that I had no idea what it was but very tasty. and whilst I popped into the supermarket..which, I am going on a tangent here...is fantastic! It had far more variety than those here in my city of residence, open 24 hours and CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP!!! As I picked the Balboa out of the fridge, a man walked by and said 'solimente una??' (only one??) which made me laugh.
Yeah, I got a good impression of the people of Panama City, which was nice as it would be my final impression of the trip.
Dolores gone, I headed out on my own that night, in hopes that Jim and company would show at the next club, but no go. probably too hungover from the night before, har har. I wound up talking to some Norwegian guy, but he certainly lacked the life and character of Dolores, Jim, or even my cat, so I danced a bit on my own, avoided conversation with random approaching men by pretending to speak neither Spanish nor English, and ended up appearing to be mentally challenged, or deaf, as my racing mind could not settle on another one to try, for fear they would also know it, and know it better than me, as French, German or Japanese are not all that rare...note to self, learn some words in more obscure language, like maybe Irish, or pick up the Swahili again. And that was that.
I awoke for my journey the next morning with a bad feeling about the day. I shook it off, figuring it largely to do with the fact I had forgotten to take my driving license, yet had hired a car in LA. ooops. little did I know that was the least of my worries.....and thus we have the next entry....
This one will be for Panama City. To me, this city was such a vast improvement over San Jose, and although I have never been, I could see why some say remniscient of Miami. Of course I had a dodgy taxi driver though who tried to take me to another hotel (a boring expensive looking one in not a great location) where he clearly got commissoin from and then tried to charge me more to take me to the hostel I wanted to stay at. I don't f***ing think so. And the fact he didn't put up much resistance is proof he was overcharging. I hate taxis.
I checked into Mamallena's, which had scored high ratings on hostelworld.com, despite Lonely planet describing the atmosphere as sterile as a hospital waiting room. I wouldn't say that was entirely true, but I am sure a more atmospheric place existed, such as Luna's castle in Casco Viejo, but I wasn't sure about that area at night, whereas the area Mamallena's is in meant I could walk on my own at night with minimal worry. I also found out later that Luna's was closed for renovations so I couldn't have stayed there anyway. everything for a reason.
The staff at Mamallena's were cool, the facilities pretty good (though the terrace could be made a bit more atmospheric, maybe with some of those funny chilli fairy lights or so), but I would have to say, its hit or miss with the people. And for me, it was largely a miss. I was quite disappointed to arrive to a bunch of zoned out space cadets glued to the television with vacant stares. I mean, some were there for HOURS. One has to wonder, why waste the airfare...
However, I was determined; this city was meant to be known for its nightlife, and if it meant kitting up and going on my own to explore it, so be it. But I did find a kindred amongst this decidedly anti social crowd - A great Argentinian girl called Dolores. She was cool, and at first I was disappointed to hear that she was to be flying out that night.
However as our conversation wore on, it was revealed that she did not actually need to leave the hostel until 2 am, so I asked on the offchance if she would join me rather than hang about the hostel and she took me up on it. So I pulled some nicer threads out from the bottom of the backpack, and even put on a bit of makeup (gasp) and the blasted heels I had been travelling with to blend a bit better in the clubs with 'the rich and beautiful' (lonely planet strikes again).
We headed down to Calle Uruguay, which is supposed to be a main going out area of Panama City, and found it quite dead. And also remniscient of Miami. Was wondering if it was me being destined to never party or have fun again. But then we realised, it was just too early for people to be out. we grabbed some food at a little corner diner called Don Blas with a cheap and varied menu, as well as a wrapaound terrace that would allow us to observe the progression of people going into the various clubs. She was great company for dinner, and afterwards we noticed one particular club with a second floor terrace getting busier and decided to give it a go. We had barely walked in when we were set upon by Jim, an obvious American and his Serbian friend whose name eluded me all night. They walked us to the bar to get some drinks and we were introduced to a load of Panamamanians - they were referred to as 'the Panamamanians' and we were 'Canada girl' and 'Argentina girl'. We grabbed some drinks and hung at the bar for a bit, danced it up and that was great. Jim came back later and was doing a pretty good cowboy dance.
To end the night off we went to chill on that terrace in the warm night air (now, there is no way one could ever say that in Vienna..in January!!!), and met Annette, yet another displacement person (Venezuelan, living in...Miami!) and headed back to Mamallena in time for Dolores to get her plane. Top night, I really enjoyed it. Jim had told us that the scene rotates a bit there, and finally, i had hit it right and that was THE place for Tuesdays. He told me where Wednesday's was and said I should meet them there.
The next day was my one and only day to see the city. I woke up early, attempted to make pancakes (but breakfast was more like pancake goo owing to the dodgy frying pan..cos I CAN make pancakes, damnit! note to self, do not do this next day when have international plane to catch).
I still set out rather early though, right as the first slaves of television and internet emerged from their dorms, and on a tip from Dolores, decided the first thing would be the Canal, at the Miraflores locks. I wanted to go by bus on the 'diablos rojos' (red devils), and this was actually a great way to get around the city and dead cheap. I had no idea which one i needed, or where to get off, but i just shouted my destination and they told me correclty when it was time. people on the bus were also helpful, pointing out which stop for me to get off, and then telling me again which bus I needed for Miraflores. Which was definitely impressive. Along the way I gained the company of an Israeli couple and a super hyper Brazilian, who took some photos of me. I caught the sight of one ship leaving and another entering, but with a tight schedule could not linger too long and headed back down to Avenida Central to walk into Casco Viejo and explore it.
Casco Viejo is under a major facelift, and it showed. some buildings were well restored, next to ghetto ones that looked like they had fallen victim to bombs. the area had a beautiful dilapadated feel to it, and was spotted with some stalls selling Kuna items - it was great to poke around. After which I randomly got on a bus that displayed 'Via Espana' and hoped it would go where I needed it to. It came close, and thankfully my lesson from walking back from Calle Uruguay the night before stuck and I made my way back to TV central to wait out a rainstorm before heading to the Mola shop.
Molas are colorful pieces of patch artwork done by the Kuna Indians of Panama and I was obsessed with them. I bought up quite a lot and my Christmas quota had been fulfilled! (well, along with a Balboa lager to add to my colleague Conor's international beer collection from me). I also tried some fruit juice from a fruit that I had no idea what it was but very tasty. and whilst I popped into the supermarket..which, I am going on a tangent here...is fantastic! It had far more variety than those here in my city of residence, open 24 hours and CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP!!! As I picked the Balboa out of the fridge, a man walked by and said 'solimente una??' (only one??) which made me laugh.
Yeah, I got a good impression of the people of Panama City, which was nice as it would be my final impression of the trip.
Dolores gone, I headed out on my own that night, in hopes that Jim and company would show at the next club, but no go. probably too hungover from the night before, har har. I wound up talking to some Norwegian guy, but he certainly lacked the life and character of Dolores, Jim, or even my cat, so I danced a bit on my own, avoided conversation with random approaching men by pretending to speak neither Spanish nor English, and ended up appearing to be mentally challenged, or deaf, as my racing mind could not settle on another one to try, for fear they would also know it, and know it better than me, as French, German or Japanese are not all that rare...note to self, learn some words in more obscure language, like maybe Irish, or pick up the Swahili again. And that was that.
I awoke for my journey the next morning with a bad feeling about the day. I shook it off, figuring it largely to do with the fact I had forgotten to take my driving license, yet had hired a car in LA. ooops. little did I know that was the least of my worries.....and thus we have the next entry....
14 January, 2008
ps again
ok, people, comments. please, show me someone is reading all this crap I write. even if you say it is crap and it sucks and I am the worst writer in the world. This is as bad as work...careening rudderlessly with no feedback. I really would like to know your thoughts.....gracias!
Bocas del Toro 101 (or Bocas del Toro for dummies)
not surprisingly, I did get slightly ripped off by *little friendly* George on that boat tour - but thankfully as I was far from being alone there, I feel much better about it. I mean, I did get the tour, but for more money than the others paid and of course yer man there has buggered off into oblivion, but should i see him again it will not exactly be a pleasant encounter.
Although to be fair, not that it really mattered; on the tour I met Shawn and Nicole, 2 Americans who had gone through a shop (Jampon) and didn´t get what they were promised either. Basically we were put into another boat with 6 people who had it basically set up for themselves, and we were just along for the ride. However we did manage to get to Cayo Zapatilla for a few hours, and that was what I really wanted to see in any case, but I have to say the whole thing was rather disorganised, and of course they did the whole thing of dropping us off at a restaraunt along the way, which of course had prices to rival those of my favourite restaraunts in Vienna. At least whatever the heat did to my brain to make me make such bad travel decisions (chuh, you'd think I was some kind of newbie...insert embarrased face), seemed to have worn off, and Shawn and Nicole had been thikning along the same lines and we had stocked up at the supermarket the day before. So rather than a severely overpriced dish of shrimp, I spent a mere few dollars for a sandwich, fruit, juice and sweets. We knew it was a total trap when they tried to charge us for sitting at the table! We had also gone to one of the stops, and the larger group was asked if they wanted to get out...they said no, but the rest of us were not consulted. as the highest paying member of the group, I should have had the ultimate decision making authority, but I know all too well the world does not work that way...
All we could really do at this stage was laugh about it..the restaraunt stop was not a complete waste though, we got into conversation with Kurt, an American who owned a fishing lodge in Alaska, and he had some good stories about that and driving here in Panama...and how he screwed up some questions and ended up paying an exorbitant fine. Guess even the most savvy of us make mistakes now and again.
Also met Norm and Noel on the beach, 2 fisherman with whom I shared some drinks with later that night and we attempted to have a party night, but it was completely dead! Guess all the local working folk had finished playing and absconded back to Panama City. huh. Guess I will have to sort out some partying there!!!
But OK. so given some of these experiences I have wised up a bit. the accom..I can do nothing about it. so I will just enjoy and not worry. For future reference, when sucked in by sea view, etc. will pay only one night at a time and go night to night as is normal here. Had I done that I could have booked into Casa Max, a characteristic little Dutch owned establishment that Shawn and Nicole are raving about. Also after a stop at Mondu Taitu bar last night, I'd found the atmosphere quite cliquey and Shawn and Nicole, who had actually stayed there, echoed the same. although I guess that is hostels for you; its hit or miss with the crowds. but sometimes you can just get that feeling...its sister hostel, Heike, seemed like it would be the superior option and I wish I had booked in there, or managed to get something at Casa Max as well. To know for next time...
2. people. I KNOW better than to trust them, I KNOW that I am an easy target, especially with full luggage and lonely planet in hand...I also KNOW that I should be a lot firmer and tell these people to bugger off (although the less polite version of that) and I KNOW that i should shop around (I am waiting for a report on the J & J excursion some folks at my place had done, but I am sure they got what they were promised!). without knowing excursion prices, I should not have booked something.
Today I went with Shawn and Nicole to Red Frog beach. Initially I was reluctant to do this, but I read in old faithful (Lonely planet) the cost should be $10, so I just refused to pay anymore. And after passing by Boca Marine and Tours, found a boatman who would take me for just that. So Shawn, who is perpetually followed by these dodgy local guys, and Nicole joined me. We paid half the fee upfront, and half on the return leg. We were picked up almost dead on time. the boatman, Juan, was not resistant to that at all and was friendly enough, so I can recommend that place if anyone needs transport around this area.
And it was really a perfect, lovely day, exactly what I came here for. It was short walk along a jungle path, which also cost $2...they get you for everything, but whatever..along the way a little girl showed us one of the strawberry poison dart frogs, from which the beach derived its name, and we were half expecting her to ask for some money for that as well! But she didnt and I was quite glad i finally got to see one of the famed frogs.
as for the beach itself...blue Carribean sea lapping up on sandy shores framed by coconut trees. We also timed it well that we had it almost to ourselves and buggered off as the crowds arrived.
Tomorrow, I will see my last beach here, Boca del Drago, and take the $2 shuttle..I asked the driver today for the times and the rates and he was friendly enough as well. the times mean a couple hours beach time and returning in time to shower up before flying to my final destination. little planes again, hurrah!!!
So. last lesson, numero tres - avoid the boat area and the boatmen between the Police station and Tropic Suites. They are nothing but a bunch of disorganised cowboys, who (pardon the use of this expression in this context) could not find water if they fell off a boat. Also avoid Jampon Tours just down the way. Better off to go with Boca Marine or J & J.
As for anything else...there is a place not listed in the guidebook, called 'Golden Grill'. its an almost sterile sort of American diner type place, but dead cheap..pancakes for a dollar and a half. Not idealistic but folk always seem to be there and the food's not bad if you're on a budget and tired of the fried chicken or meat on a stick....
OK, the sunset is calling...
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