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First Time Surfing in Santa Catalina Panama

Hello Friends,

I want to start off by thanking Bocas del Toro, Panama. I spent exactly 4 weeks volunteering at Bambuda Hotel/Hostel. I met a ton of people, begrudgingly got over my fear of public speaking, swam, partied, and officially restored my tan.

Bambuda was beautiful, the staff was lovely, and the other volunteers were always down for an adventure. I met a range of interesting guests from a woman who was into spiritual travel to a cursing sailor who taught me how to play pool.

My job was essentially to hang out with guests, move paddle boards, and run pub crawls. I can’t tell you how many times I witnessed the total transformation of a guest from cool & collected to climbing furniture to dance and scream-sing.

Bocas itself is a mix of indigenous people and Caribbean immigrant workers that came to work on the Banana plantations and/or canals 100+ years ago. They fundamentally change Panamanian culture. It’s why plátanos, turmeric based sauces, and hot peppers are found on every menu.

It’s also how Panama became the birthplace of Reggaeton. In the 90s locals started translating Reggae into Spanish and eventually changed the beat. Everywhere you go, Spanish reggae, dancehall, Afrobeats, and more are blasting through someone’s stereo. I made a playlist of music I Shazamed while there.

The current wave of migrants are expats looking to escape their 9-5 in the West (me). Some buy property and start a whole new life. Á la Cameron, an ex-Marine & boat captain who who sold his marijuana farm in Cali to buy the Tequila Bar and retire on the island.

I especially love Bocas for how safe I felt there. Sure, men hit on me and said things like “you have a nice shape” but I never felt cornered or in danger. I even made local friends. One took me to his barber to get a $5 fade.

Now, I’ve washed up on Surfer’s Paradise hostel in Santa Catalina after 1 boat ride, 2 cabs, 3 buses, and 12 LONG hours to surf. Or, more accurately, learn how to get back up when I inevitably wipe out.

I’ve never had so much fun being so awful at something. Shout out to my instructor who insists “it’s even funner when you stand up.” Sureeeee. I’ll believe it when I see it.

The “town” is a tiny rural nook overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It’s made up of exactly two paved roads and three grocery stores. Everywhere I look, there are sunburnt tourists with matted hair vigorously rubbing wax onto a board.

When I suggested to someone he could do something other than surf he looked apalled. No, if there are waves, one MUST surf. It’s a lifestyle. One that I’m embracing by not wasting shampoo, refusing to wear a shirt, and laying in a hammock for the rest of the day.

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