A moment of Shavasana*

Isla Bastimentos, PANAMA
Feb.19-21, 2015

When fantasizing about leaving my job and traveling, a vision that repeatedly played across my mind was of a smooth, wooden platform overlooking the water, where early in the morning I would be doing some yoga.

With an ongoing flow of young North Americans and Europeans in Central America, and a growing number of retired expats moving there permanently, you will find at least one (likely more) yoga studio in every traveler town.  I was pleasantly surprised.

On the morning I was leaving Bocas del Toro town, I found it - my vision.  Up the stairs to the second level, an open-air studio with a smooth wooden floor, overlooking the waters of the Almirante Bay, boats crossing in and out of the picture, and a good solid hard-work yoga session.  It was dreamy.  But Bocas del Toro town was a dream from which I needed to wake up.

The bank re-opened Wenesday afternoon at 1:00pm.  With only $14 US left in my pocket, I passed by at 9:30am that morning to check on the status of the guaranteed line-up.  There was not a soul around.  Back at 11:00am, there were a couple people sitting on the curb, but no line.  By 12:30pm, the crowds were gathering, although I wouldn't really call it a "line", and I slotted myself into a shady spot with my book.  When the main doors to the bank opened just after 1:00pm, a cheer erupted from those nearby.  It was soon silenced when the guard explained that yes, the bank was open now, but the ATM around the side of the building would not be filled for at least an hour.  I called out to him "Can I help??".  When the bank lady emerged around 2:00pm and headed for the ATM, a cheer erupted and the milling crowd, which had been growing exponentially in the last hour, calmly shaped itself into a proper line.  When the bank lady did not re-emerge from the ATM by about 2:15pm, those at the front of the line began to provide a play-by-play of the ATM failed "self-tests" - the money shuffler gizmo that spits out the bills kept choking.  By 3:00pm, with my stomach-rumbling alarming those around me because I hadn't eaten since an early morning breakfast, I wondered if the $15/night hostel would kick me out if I was $1 short.  At 3:10pm, the bank lady emerged, and the crowd erupted in a resignedly weak cheer, the majority of our day gone.  I decided to take out twice as much money, just in case, and to cover Jeannie in case the ATM ran out again.  I think everyone else had the same idea, because after a third of the line got through, the ATM was out of money again.

With my new found riches, I decided to escape to the calmer Isla Bastimentos.  After the dreamy yoga class, I loaded me and my pack on the 10-minute boat-bus to my next home.

What I did not expect to see on the ride over...

Approaching Isla Bastimentos

My corner room on the second-floor-left of the bright green place; the brown banana-leaf-roof place on
the water in front - Alvin & Ketcha's Kitchen - the nearest place to eat

Alvin & Ketcha's Kitchen restaurant

Jeannie (left), her friend (centre), and her roommate Rasheedah (right)
walking down the main street - no noisy motor vehicles here...

As I walked along the "main street", it became obvious that the children far outnumbered the adults.  And many of the mothers were very young.  But any kid that could walk seemed to be out playing and having a good time.

My initial reaction was to feel bad for these young women, and for their children fated to repeat the same cycle of existence.  What about further education, going out to see more of the world, becoming involved in "bigger" things?  Who was going to stand up for these woman and give them the same opportunities I had been given?

But then, I realized I was looking at Central America through the eyes of a North American - my definition of "progess" is seen through those eyes.  The kids running around looked happy, energetic, free and probably didn't have to wait for their mothers to make them a "play date".  And just because I wanted to get educated and become employed by a big well-paying corporation in order to contribute to an OCD-level-consumer society, all of which would inevitably drain my energy and life via the donation of my brain, doesn't mean that is the "right" path for civilization...

The entrance to Up In The Hill coffee shop, situated a good climb up
the hill when I hiked up and over to Wizard Beach on the other side
of the island

There are many things I like about my North American civilization - the electricity and fresh water generally work when I need them, the bank has money, an orchestra of many instruments can play a complex piece of music, there are libraries and book stores containing information on anything I want to know, I can take a break from day-to-day life necessities and relax in a cozy little shop while drinking a brown liquid someone has figured out how to make from coffee plants, I can travel vast distances in a short amount of time in order to visit the people and places I want, and I can have wine.

But, how often did I give up those things I like about my North America civilization (except the wine) in order to work more?

How often did I miss out on a good time with friends because I was just too tired?  And how often did I skip yoga, which is so increasingly good for my general well-being...

Perhaps I was the one who needed to learn from them.

A rest at Up In The Hill coffee shop

The colourful-eternally muddy trail
to Wizard Beach

Rasheedah and Jeannie cooking me a fantastic fish dinner

The little gecko hitched a ride home
on my collar after dinner

Evening view from Tio Tom's patio restaurant - every night he puts all his restaurant tables together in one long
row so everyone has to sit together and talk to each other - it was great (after a solo day of reading or hiking)

* Savasana: the final pose typically conducted at the end of a yoga practice, known as "corpse pose", with the body laid out flat on the ground, the muscles relaxed in order to regroup and reset