The Zombie Protest

You know some days you wake up and think what the hell happened last night. Well that was me this morning.

When I arrived at the hostel on Friday evening, they told me about the Halloween party they were having the next evening, tickets were $3 and there were drink specials. Cool, that sounds like a good deal.

I spent the day in the mall shopping, which was also slightly bizarre as I haven't done anything so cosmopolitan in months. Anyway, when I got back to the hostel people were getting dressed up and putting makeup on. I wasn't planning to go to any effort and was rather pleased to be wearing some new clothes. Lainie who was putting some zombie makeup on asked if I wanted any. What the hell. (Lainie incidentally, belonged to a Zombie performance group at home in LA.) So we made ourselves up like zombies. When I was finished she asked if I was going on the Zombie Walk. What Zombie Walk? Apparently there was a bunch of people getting dressed up like zombies and were going to walk through the streets of Casco Viejo, our neighbourhood. Since I had the face ready, I thought sure. We walked a couple of blocks down to a bar where zombies and other scary people were starting to gather. There were some great costumes and they were playing music like Thriller and the theme from The Godfather to get us in the mood.

It turns out that the Zombie Walk had been written up in the papers for the past week or so and that the police were not happy about the "protest" so we were being watched very closely. As the crowd swelled with all manner of scary people, we were unsure of exactly when we would be walking and by now there were a couple of dozen police hanging around. The fact that this was being called a protest was hilarious. What do zombies protest about anyway? Apparently for such a religious country a pagan celebration is frowned upon. The only "protest" I've ever been involved with is the Walk For Reconciliation across Sydney Harbour Bridge many years ago. Quite how I got myself involved in a Zombie Protest in Panama City I still can't figure out.

By now it was getting close to 9.30pm and we would be walking soon, but there was a bit of unrest and the police arrested one of the zombies. Not quite sure why because there was no violence or aggression going on. Some people were getting freaked out and left but really, I couldn't see how the police were going to arrest a couple of hundred zombies and other scary people. Then when we finally started walking, the police were all over us and we had to stay on the footpaths, if you walked on the road you would get arrested. So we walked a few blocks to a bar, we were there only about 10-15 minutes, enough time for a quick beer and a sausage on a stick, then we continued. By the time we got to the next bar, we had police blocking either end of the street. They really were not down with the zombies.

At that point it all got a bit boring so I headed back to the hostel with a couple of others, being careful to walk on the footpaths. There we had the party with all sorts of costumes. That part of the night was slightly more normal. Although I did hear the next day that after 9pm the hostel would not let anyone out on the street with any makeup on.

I think if you want to go trick or treating next Halloween, Panama City is probably not the place for you...

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Here's the article from the Panama daily rag, La Prensa: http://mensual.prensa.com/mensual/contenido/2010/11/01/hoy/panorama/2389431.asp

And the translation (courtesy of Google Translate, sorry about any inaccuracy):

Mayor and Police face 'zombies' marchers

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On the eve of Halloween, the mayor of San Felipe, Jairo Morán, had his "witch hunt." Or, rather, of zombies.

By order of Moran, the National Police arrested three people Saturday night, during the preparations for the "Zombie Walk 2010" at Plaza Herrera of San Felipe.

One of the detainees, Mir Rodriguez, was brought before a night court, which fined him $ 365 for "disrespect for authority."

"They are attacking very important constitutional rights such as freedom of movement and free expression," Rodriguez said.

The other two detainees were taken to the substation in the neighborhood, where we applied the Peel Police. Since they had no search warrant, were released.

The mayor tried to stop the march (in the end, he failed), citing Municipal Decree 521 of 1998, which prohibits "any move to disguise or mask the streets of the city district of Panama." The penalty is 10 to 50 dollars.

Moran tried to persuade the zombies do not leave, because in San Felipe three gangs operate.

Rob Rivera, an organizer of the walk, Moran complained that he ignored a note of 29 October, in which the general secretary of the Mayor of Panama, Eliades Serrano, gives its approval to the activity.

The walk focused dozens of people (organizers estimate 200 to 300), attracted to the idea of strolling through historic Old Town as the undead. It is the fifth time that Rivera is organizing the event, the previous four did so in the Urraca Park and Calle Uruguay.

Patrizia Pinzon, resident of San Felipe, lamented that the mayor sent to several police officers (she was 15) and three patrols to suppress a leisure activity, "but every time we've had real problems shooting, always on all fours to see them send officers. "

Central America In Four Days

In the past four days I have travelled from Utila in the Bay Islands of Honduras to Panama City. Almost from one end of Central America to another. I started with the 6.20am ferry from Utila on Tuesday morning and finally arrived here in Panama at around 4pm on Friday. The last bus ride alone was 17 hours. Along the way I got to stay in two of my least favourite places, San Pedro Sula and Managua.

I did have a nice little chuckle to myself however in San Jose where, while waiting between buses, I popped down to the Mexican restaurant down the road for dinner. Inside the menu at Maria Bonitas is a note to diners, just under the part where they tell you about the compulsory service charge. It said "To be a family restaurant the loving scenes they are prohibited". How cute is that. It was about 9pm on a Thursday night and I was the only paying customer there. There was also grandpa watching the baseball on the giant plasma, daughter who was the waitress, dad the maitre'd and I suspect mum was in the kitchen.

But I'm here now, in the most cosmopolitan city in Central America and the only capital worth staying in. There's even skyscraper buildings. I'll take a photo tomorrow and upload it - there's a great view across the water from my room.

Anyway, that's all I can say about this week.

The Lionfish

One of the most impressive looking fish in my diving here was the Lionfish. Sadly, he is not wanted. Native to the Western Pacific, the Lionfish appears to have arrived in the Western Atlantic and Carribean as a result of hurricanes and tank releases in the early 1990's. Their impact is simply disastrous.

"Protected by venomous spines, lionfish are voracious and effective predators. When hunting, they herd and corner their prey using their pectoral fins, then quickly strike and swallow their prey whole. With few known natural predators, the lionfish poses a major threat to coral reef ecosystems in the Caribbean region by decreasing survival of a wide range of native reef animals via both predation and competition. While native grouper may prey on lionfish, they have been overfished and therefore unlikely to significantly reduce the effects of invasive lionfish on coral reef communities." (http://www.oar.noaa.gov/spotlite/archive/2009/articles/lionfish_invasion.html)

On one dive over on the north side of Utila last week (where people don't often go and haven't been for a while) we saw well over a dozen lionfish but unfortunately did not have the spear with us that day. Hunting here is very controlled, each spear requires a license and the only fish you are allowed to spear is the lionfish. Even then, the spear owner is very particular with who they give permission to.

There are so many beautiful fish here that deserve protecting so it would be good to see regular spearing trips to eliminate the population here.

Diving and Hurricanes

Well I'm still here in Utila... It has been a nice week with lots of diving and chilling out. The weather has been up and down, usually nice in the morning then rainy in the afternoons. On Saturday the weekly booze cruise at Altons Dive Shop was cancelled (again) and it was replaced with a dock party to celebrate Hurricane Dick which was meant to be hitting Utila around midday on Sunday. The weather was pretty rough on Saturday afternoon then it calmed right down in the evening. I learned later that the island had a curfew at 9pm because of the hurricane and the only place open on the island was Altons. Then yesterday there was not much to do while we waited out the storm so the debauchery started very early in the day - kind of reminded me of when we were snowed in when I first arrived in New York.

Hurricane Dick turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. After everyone on the waterfront evacuating their rooms and everything being locked down, he was nothing more that a rough storm for a few hours in the morning, passing about 90kms off Utila by lunchtime.

The plan was to leave this morning but it was all too hard, so, manana. Today the weather is perfect - the best weather since I've been here and the water is crystal clear. I'm heading off on the afternoon boat for what will be my final dives here in Utila.

Utila

Utila is a tropical island paradise with turquoise waters and beautiful sunshine. But not in the rainy season. It is still a nice place to be but the rain is annoying and the water is a kind of murky brown close to shore, but nicer further out. The diving is still pretty good most days.

The island is very much a party and diving island, with not much to do beside those two things. There is not much point to being here if you don’t dive and then afterwards, everyone hangs around for some beers or rums or whatever. I can see how people get trapped here for months on end, eventually becoming divemasters or instructors. The lifestyle is pretty good.

My first day was just for relaxing, getting over the Mosquito Coast.

Second day I started my PADI Open Water Diving course. The theory was easy and logical and most of the skills were okay but I struggled with one of them – almost throwing in the towel.

We did the skills in a pool at some guy’s house on the island. Two and a half hours we were in there and it was so cold by the end of it I was shivering, and that was with wearing a wetsuit.

The past two days I have been on four dives to complete the skills in open water. This afternoon I complete my theory and exams and then its all fun diving from here on in.

Back To Civilisation

We had to be up at 2.40am this morning to get the boat back to Batalla. We knew no-one would have told Eddis we’d be a day later and we were actually happy not to go with him again after last time.

As soon as the boat gets in at Batalla there’s eight or ten pickups there all trying to get you to go back with them on the return journey. Their cars are empty so it is a good chance for them to make money if they take passengers. We found the guy who was giving us his Guarita on the first night and went with him.

His driver was a legend. We tore out of the place as soon as we got in, not a second to waste. Half an hour in we got a flat tyre and I don’t think he had all the tools to change it. We got help from another pickup and before too long we were speeding off down the beach. This guy was doing speeds of up to 60kms per hour along the beach – and it was quite a high tide again.

We didn’t even go on the first pontoon. These guys drive further along and one gets out, walks through the water, if its not too deep, we drive through. It was pretty cool. The whole trip was fast and bumpy but he seemed to be a much more skilled driver than our first and that definitely matters out here.

By 10am we were back in Tocoa and I was hopeful I’d make it to Utila in the same day. We jumped on a chicken bus back to La Ceiba, happy to be on proper roads. Not too long into that journey and there looked like a problem with the bus, smoke was billowing out from the engine in the front of the bus. There were two conductors and they kept having to jump out every ten minutes or so to fill up containers with water to pour into the engine. They took it all in their stride and seemed to be having a bit of fun with the situation.

We got into La Ceiba in heavy rain and a bit later than we should have but that was fine, I would still make it to Utila.

The boat ride to Utila was pretty rough, at least it was a big boat so I didn’t mind too much being almost airborne on some of the waves. Apparently a lot of people get sick on this trip but I don’t think we had any, thankfully.

Raista

Today we were making our way back, going downriver to Raista, which is not far from Belen. It took about four hours in the boat, going back the same way we came.

The weather was not as good today and we had a bit of rain on the way back so we huddled under a big bit of plastic to protect ourselves.

There were a lot of birds out on this trip and we were lucky enough to see a lot of toucans, they always sit really high in the trees but their profile is very distinct.

We got to Doña Elma’s at around lunchtime but she was expecting us yesterday – obviously no one was talking to anyone on this tour so I think we kept surprising people everywhere we went as we were a day behind schedule. Doña Elma whipped up a good lunch for us and got our rooms sorted. We were surprised to see other tourists here, as we hadn’t seen any in a week. There were three Spaniards and a Columbian.

In the afternoon we had guide come and take us on a tour of the community. This pretty much involved walking along the dirt road, he pointed out the butterfly farm, school and church, then we returned back along the beach.

The beach was a real disappointment, there was more rubbish then I’d seen anywhere before. The guide said it all washes up from the Bay Islands but I find it hard to believe that is the only source. But still, why doesn’t anyone clean it up – there is plastic everywhere.

When the “tour” was over we went back to the village to buy some cold beers, our first cold beer in days. They tasted fantastic! Doña Elma is apparently known for her good cooking and we weren’t disappointed at dinner. We also got to eat our first vegetables in a week – some raw cabbage and tomato.

After dinner there was a Mosquito Dance just for us. This was a bit cringeworthy as they set up three chairs for us to watch the three dancers. There was a bonfire and our guide from this afternoon was on guitar and vocals. Around the outside everyone else from the village and a couple of other tourists who were staying there watched. A few of the dances involved our participation and while it was quite funny, it was also pretty horrible with everyone watching. At one point the bonfire became a raging inferno scaring the dancers so the guitar guy got some water to splash on to calm it down then the whole structure collapsed - it was hilarious.

Las Marias

Today we were meant to do a trek but with everything still wet from yesterday we cancelled that plan and Mariano agreed to take us for a walk through Las Marias. It was a much nicer day today, in fact it was hot and really humid after all of yesterday’s rain.

Mariano showed us some more medicinal plants and took us to see the health clinic/hospital and the new tourist centre they’re building.

They have only around fifty to eighty tourists down here a year. I don’t know whether it used to be more and it has dried up since last year’s coup or whether they’re very ambitious. The new building will even have internet. I can’t imagine too much tourist traffic through here although you can fly in on light planes.

Given there aren’t many tourists, a few people thought we were a good opportunity to get some money which was a bit annoying, but generally the Mosquito people are very nice – quiet but friendly.

The Petroglyph

After breakfast, Mariano came to collect us to head of for today’s adventure. It was raining and we had our jackets but were hoping it would clear up. We walked through the village of Las Marias which is very spread out along small dirt tracks. The centre of town is about a 15-20 minute walk from Doña Rutilia’s place then we walked through more of the village down to a point in the river where we would meet our boats and guides. One of the guides was also the priest and he blessed our journey which did make me start to wonder what we had ahead of us.

The boats just kept getting smaller. We were in two dugout canoes which sat only inches above the water. I had my own canoe with three guides – the priest being one of them. Two of the guides were at the front of the boat, pulling us up river by sticking their long wooden poles down into the river floor and pulling. It was raining and that movement made the boat rock a lot, this was not going to be a comfortable ride. If it wasn’t raining and the boat wasn’t rocking so much I might have been game enough to get some photos or video but there was no way I was taking my camera out on this boat.

After about an hour or so we got to a point where we were going to walk through the jungle a bit. Valencia was our guide and she was pointing out all sorts of medicinal plants and how they use them. Most medical treatment down here uses plants for the first few days of illness, then if you aren’t better, you see a doctor or nurse. They really seem to have a cure for everything in these jungles.

Lunch we had brought with us, spaghetti with tinned sausages and bananas with some coconut bread. Can’t say I’m really enjoying the food down here at Las Marias and there isn’t a vegetable anywhere in sight. We ate what we could of our lunch then the guides finished it off – we were really embarrassed when they passed around our plates of unwanted food, there would have been plenty to share had we known.

We had an hour more upstream to get to the petroglyph and some of it was pretty hard going. The river was so shallow this whole time and we’d often scrape the boat on the river floor. Some parts had quite strong rapids and we just had to charge through them. These guys that work these boats have probably the strongest arms – it is incredibly hard work.

The petroglyph is a rock in the middle of the river that dates back over 1,000 years. It is unknown exactly what the picture depicts and who put it there. It is thought to have perhaps been Aztecs or Mayans or some other civilisation but no-one knows. We didn’t spend long at the petroglyph cause it was still bloody raining so we turned around for the cruise downstream which was a two hour journey.

For this part the guides used paddles to navigate the river and it was quite good fun and less scary than I imagined going through the rapids. By the time we got back, another half hour walk to the hospedaje, we were so cold, my hands and feet were blue. It had been seven hours of sitting and walking through the rain and everything was wet, despite my wearing a waterproof jacket. No hot showers here either, just a bucket and some cold water. Lourdes made us some coffee and before too long we started to thaw out.

Up River To Las Marias

Day three and we are off in another small boat to go to Las Marias, a community on the Rio Platano. The boat was basic to say the least, another dugout type boat with a few holes stuffed with rags. We sat on wooden chairs – one behind the other – and the driver at the back. Luckily we had a motor for this trip as it would be long.

The first part we went through the lagoon, then a series of creeks before we hit the river. The whole area is so beautiful and feels very untouched, save the odd family living here or there.

It was going to be a much longer trip going this way as we’re going upstream the whole way and the river gets quite strong in parts – and it is surprisingly shallow in many parts.

Before too long we were seeing all sorts of birds and the odd turtle, sunbaking on a bit of wood, stuck in the middle of the river. There was an incredible amount of debris in the water too, the river banks are eroding and as they do the trees collapse into the river, making it very tricky to navigate as you’re always winding around the trees in the water. Sometimes we would hit a branch or something that we couldn’t see below the water.

At lunch we stopped to eat at a family’s house with the food Mario had prepared for us in Belen. The people were friendly although they set up a table for us then left us to it. Our company was the dog who was definitely the skinniest I’ve ever seen, and that is really saying something after spending a decent amount of time in Central America. Luckily we were served about four times as much rice as we needed so the dog did well. She had a litter of small puppies to take care of too and they didn’t look the strongest creatures I’ve seen. Then one of them fell down a 3-4 metre drop and into the river – poor thing. It was saved though and a little shaken and upset but okay.

A few more hours to go before we hit Las Marias and I was starting to get quite sunburnt but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I was covering my head with my jacket but no matter what I did the sun would find its way straight onto my face.

It was about 4.30pm when we eventually arrived at Doña Rutilia’s place on the river. An idyllic spot with chickens, pigs and dogs all wandering around the place, some orange trees and coconut trees and a happy family.

We thought it would be nice to relax and have a beer while the sun was setting after seven hours on the boat but the only beer they had was warm – that would do we said and it really wasn’t as bad as you’d imagine – warm beer in a can.

Belen

We were meant to head to Las Marias today but we said we needed a quiet day and another night in Belen – Mario was more than happy to oblige. So after a late breakfast of fried fish, mashed beans and fried breadfruit, we all went back to bed and woke up in time for lunch.

In the afternoon Mario took us on a walk around the villages. There are small communities of Mosquito and Pech people here and it is difficult to tell one from the other as they are all along this one road we walked along last night.

The beach is one one side of the peninsula and the lagoon on the other. Most houses are timber, some on stilts, with the occasional concrete house.

The main work here is diving for lobster which the men do so most of the women and children seem to spend the day hanging around, obviously once they’re done with their domestic duties. The kids are really cute and ask you to take their photo so they can have a look, then all the pushing, shoving and giggling follows, everyone trying to see themselves tiny screen.

But today mostly involved rest as we are all phenomenally tired after yesterday and there will be a six hour boat ride upstream tomorrow.

Beached As...

It was an early start, Matilda and Christer picked me up at 5.20am to head to the bus station. It wasn’t a long wait for the bus but just enough time to drink a coffee and eat an empanada for breakfast. Then the two or so hour journey to Tocoa. The bus was meant to drop us at the market there and the bus guy said he would but when we got to Tocoa he said no and we ended up walking ten minutes or so to the market.

There we met Eddis who was organizing our pickup to Batalla. It would be 7-9 hours along a mainly dirt road – depending on the condition of the road. By this time it was about 8.30am and we were keen to go. Eddis asked if we wanted to eat, no we were ready to go, it would already be a long day. He packed our bags in the back and there was some discussion with him and his friends. They then loaded four bags of frozen chickens in the back. Then they got in and took off. Twenty minutes he said. So we went across the road and had a coffee while we waited, all a bit confused by what just happened. Twenty minutes passed, an hour passed, soon enough we were beginning to panic. I had my passport and credit card locked in that bag and there was no sign of Eddis or the pickup.

We tried to call Claudia who was organizing everything but she didn’t pick up her phone. Eddis wasn’t answering his either. Tocoa is not really the kind of place you want to hang around at any time and there was a lot of police and military men milling around with large guns and other weapons attached to them. By now we were getting cranky and quite concerned that they’d never come back – and if they did, god only knows what time we’d get to Belen.

Finally Eddis picked up his phone – cinco minutos he said. And sure enough they arrived a little while later with the pickup packed up to the wahoo with all sorts of cargo. So by 10.30am we were finally off. Six of us in the car and three on top of all the cargo.

When we stopped for lunch just before two they said it would be only two and a half hours more and we thought the roads seemed to be pretty good. It would be nice to be able to get the boat from Batalla to Belen in daylight we thought and on this timing we could manage it.

Not long after lunch we stopped at a river crossing which was just a timber pontoon that was pulled across the river by rope. The car boards by driving up on some strategically placed timber slats, not much wider than a car tyre. The driver told us it was best if we stood outside the car, just in case he said. We were a little nervous but it all went smoothly, thankfully.

Another hour or so later and we hit sandy terrain, right by the beach and soon enough we were driving on the beach. It felt a bit like being in the Darien Gap – the roads just end so you have to drive along the beach. I thought it was quite a cool thing to do until we got bogged. They told us this is one of the dangers and can happen occasionally. We spent a bit of the time laughing at the situation – I could not see how we could possibly get the car out of here and it’s not like there’s loads of passing traffic. I had visions of the car getting washed into the surf.

They tried to get some wood under the worst tyre but there was too much cargo and nothing was moving. Eventually they unloaded most of the cargo to lighten the load. This was not an easy process. There were 22 50kg bags of rice alone. I estimated about 3 tonne of cargo. The stock of an entire mini-supermarket – everything was on board.

It took a good half hour to unload then the task of finding wood to put under the tyres started. We got involved to rock the car and help lever the wheel up to get the wood underneath. But just as we got them set a wave would come up and ruin all our good work. Talk about mission impossible.

Finally after over an hour, another car came down the beach and was getting ready to pull us out with rope but just at that moment, with a good push, the car came out. We were hoping we could get a ride with the other car, but no. So then the job started to reload the pickup again, another twenty minutes or so. Finally, an hour and a half later, we were off. The rest of the drive was pretty much along the beach and we were all a bit nervous about it now, particularly as it was now high tide and waves were splashing against the side of the car.

We came to another lagoon crossing involving the pontoon. This time we stayed inside the car. The sun was just setting and it was quite beautiful. Not too long later we hit another pontoon crossing, and shortly after that another one. Talk about the road less travelled.

Unfortunately on the final one the car missed one of the timber slats and got stuck. Unbelievably, we went through the entire process again of unloading everything off the pickup. By now it was dark and it was intermittently raining and quite cool.

About an hour later we’d sorted out that disaster and finally arrived in Batalla around 7.30pm. The three of us were sitting in the pickup wondering what was happening as the motor was still running (as it had been all day, even when we stopped for lunch and got bogged) but the others all got out. Finally one guy was coming past and I asked him where we were and what was going on. This is Batalla he said, the last stop. Yes I see you need some information. No Kidding! Eddis wasn’t really being the heroic figure we’d hoped for in this wilderness.

Much confusion ensued. We would have to stay in Batalla for the night as there were no boats and it was too dangerous. Then we were told that we could get a ride with the Pastor so it would be safe. This yes/no situation went on for a couple of hours so we had some dinner at Dona Pati’s and she gave us a bottle of apple wine called Night Train that you drink mixed with Coke – not bad and we really needed a drink.

We thought in the absence of anyone caring less about helping us, we’d just have some drinks until someone told us what to do. One of the other drivers who’d come in from Tocoa earlier was generously encouraging us to enjoy his Guarita (local moonshine) mixed with pineapple juice – not bad but you don’t feel so good later.

Eventually at around 9.30pm they told us the boat was here but don’t worry we’re not going yet. After a while we went down to it and they were loading the contents of the pickup on this longboat. Somehow we managed to squeeze on and by 10.30pm we were off.

We didn’t arrive to Belen until 1am and it was quite a cool ride but a perfect night with millions of brilliant stars. Our understanding was that we would be dropped at the lodge where we were meant to stay – but no. One of the guys on the boat, after some encouragement, walked us up to the “road” and said walk along it for half an hour. Great.

Okay so its now one in the morning, pitch black and we have no idea where we are going, the only thing we could do is walk for half an hour and then knock at someone’s door.

Luckily Matilda and Christer had torches so we bumbled along, avoiding cow patts, barking dogs and many puddles. At one point my thong broke but we got it back together again.

After about 40 minutes some barking dogs woke a family and they came out with torches to see what was going on, we asked them for help. The said we’d gone too far and tried to help us with directions. But it was impossible to know one place from another and there were no signs anywhere, not even so much as a light on in the entire place. A few houses we went up to and tried to get some help but couldn’t manage to wake anyone.

I was ready to sleep anywhere, by now it was about 2.30am and we’d been walking aimlessly for an hour and a half. Finally Matilda and Christer went off and I stayed with the bags and they knocked at someone’s door and it turned out he was Mario’s neighbour so he took them over.

Mario had called Dona Pati earlier in the evening but she told him we were having dinner now and would stay in Batalla for the night so he wasn’t expecting us.

You could imagine the state of us, mud covered feet, all messed up from the beach experience and nearly 23 hours of travel. We were completely exhausted and hit the pillow at 3.20am with very weary bones.

Yes, it was an adventure.