I spent the last few hours in Boquete sitting at an open window table in Selina’s restaurant, drinking iced Irish coffee and surveying the busy main street. Another beautiful, sunny day in Boquete, a town which I have swiftly grown to love, even with all of the nonstop barrage of people. Lots and lots of people. And traffic. And noise (music blaring from speakers everywhere at 3:00am). Is this what Boquete is actually like?
Of course not. We simply happened to be plunked down here in the middle of their biggest festival, the Coffee and Flowers Festival. Boquete=”bouquet,” why didn’t I see that one a mile away? It is, to be sure, an incredibly floral town. For a wee take on it, you may check out this link: https://www.thetinytravelogue.com/flower-festival-boquete-panama/
So I can imagine what this bucolic burg is like when there isn’t such a well-populated festival going on. Alas, I must be off. My shuttle down to the David airport is imminent, and I shan’t see this town (or any other besides P.C.) for a while. For all intensive porpoises, my little recon mission has concluded and only the schlep between airports and hotel remains. And just like that, right before the shuttle arrives, a cloud briefly obscures the sun and a few drops of rain hit the street and the cars upon it. It lasts but a moment, then sun and shadows reappear as the shuttle arrives.
David’s new international airport must still be under construction, as I was dropped off at the regular one, the kind of small airport where you trek across the tarmac with your carry-on to enter and exit the plane. There is no AC, just fans that blew the warm air around the terminal. The wait was punctuated by several military helicopters refueling and taking off again. Even the locals crowded the windows to take pictures.
The flight to P.C. was uneventful, as was the shuttle ride to the hotel, where I will crash for a bit before reversing direction and taking a shuttle back to the airport for the flight home. I’m exhausted (which doesn’t take much), so I will sleepily say goodbye to this beautiful country with its sick sense of humor, hiding all the sloths prior to my visit. It’s a cruel joke, but perhaps it’s simply a hazing ritual before Panama welcomes me for good and throws me a huge sloth party upon my return. It makes me feel better to think that way, so I’ll just do that, then. Adios, Panama! Mars has more canals than you, so there!
Consensus Reality is for Suckers 