Richard's jaunt

Monday, January 31, 2005

The jungle

The countryside is beautiful, endless double rainbows, butterflies, lush jungle, tropical birds, fresh fruit straight from the trees. Then for some unexplained reason, while reading a map I walk straight into a traffic sign. I have a bump the size of an egg. Plenty of ice cools it but leaves me with a fuzzy head for the next day.

Which is my excuse for a day that went badly wrong. To cut a long story short we spend hours getting into the jungle. We are massively out of time, we have no map, the sun has dropped behind the mountain and it is a absolute minimum of 4 hours travel to get back out again. Oh, the rain has caused multiple land slides and washed the bridge away, so we have to back track. Except my two walking friends are totally oblivious to the impending doom. For every 100m we track back they are stopping with suggestions to go and look for the Quetzale bird or some such. I point out to them the path we were on is now a river, we have no food or shelter and the last bus is uncatchable, unless we stumble upon a lift. We make good progress for about 30 seconds, until they stop again to take photographs of a piece of moss or the like, arghhh! In the end we do get a lift, in a pick up truck, we do catch the last bus and get home at 10, Im somewhat frazzled and tired.

The following day the calvary arrive in the shape of the Dutch girls from Pan city and they have a cunning plan!

There is gathering to celebrate the full moon out in the middle of nowhere. On my journey I have met various interesting people and some have mentioned this before. Its not invite only but very word of mouth. I agree but for one night only.

The three of us borrow a two man tent (!) some supplies and joined the community. It's a bus journey, then a pick up truck and then a two hour hike past woodland scenery. The clearing is ideally located, no one can bother us here. Alcohol is banned, as is anything electric, no power. The only facility is a water pipe from the spring. It varies but between 100 and 150 of us a living in the woods. Food is prepared and cooked communally twice a day. There are educational workshops, but we choose to hang out on the banks of the river and by the hot springs. The first spring has all the charm of a burst water main, but you get used to wallowing around in the mud. Nudity is common, everyone is really chilled, we help out carrying supplies back from the village. Manage to spear my foot on a twig and limp pathetically into camp with bundles of veg. Well it got me out of doing anything else.

The evenings were fantastic spectacle. They start with a cry which is repeated through the forest, Circola, and people start slowly coming in from all directions. They form a circle hold hands and start humming, culminating in clapping your partners hands. The foods simple but delicious. The music weaves and bobs from drums to local Panamanian to violin to clarinet, endlessly changing. Jugglers throw flaming baton's, occasionally from each others shoulders. There are flaming hola hoops, girls spin long chains attached to balls of fire. These are thrown and twisted with amazing speed and dexterity. Everyone seems to have a skill and when it goes quite someone else joins the fray. There are Panamanian indian people in loin clothes who whoop, shout animal noises and pound the floor in mad tribal dances.

Walking back to the tent a hundred electric blue eyes stare back. Closer inspection reveals spiders. Thinking of them as fairy lights is lot more pleasant.

I could go on and on with more details, but it was the highlight of my trip. Well five days later I emerge from the jungle. i catch sight of my self in a mirror, well I think its me. I stare for a good five minutes. I thought everyone else looked wild, but I look no better. It leaves me with less than 24 hours to get to the right country and make the airport!

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