Panama

The drops almost seemed to pierce us, sharp as needles hitting our skin. The towels in front of our faces grew heavy, drooping with the increasing weight of water. Streams flowed down my face, and I could taste a hint of the salty sea mixed with the rainfall. My glasses were a windshield, needing wipers to clear them enough to allow me to gaze.  I could hear the whine and hum of the boat engine, and yet wondered with every thump against the pound of the surf, what would happen if this boat were to break? Snap in half and leave us floating in the sea?

In order to renew our tourist visas to stay in Costa Rica, we have to leave the country 90 days after we enter. So this weekend, my family traveled to Boca del Toro, Panama, an island in the Caribbean known for beautiful beaches. After at least 80 days of the rainy season in Costa Rica, we were looking forward to sun and sand.

We went to Panama this weekend.
We soaked in the Friday sun, rejoicing in just being under its warmth for the first time in a long time.
And then, Friday night, it started to rain.
For a full day!

And yet, we adventured on.
We snorkeled in the Caribbean.
We swam in water perhaps warmer than the outside temperature.
We sat on beaches lined with coconut palms and surrounded by aqua green blue waters.

We dined at a Mediterranean restaurant owned by a Belgian Brit. We enjoyed an amazing meal of fresh mahimahi and coconut rice. We savored cheap ice cream cones. And handmade chocolate macaroon cookies. We breakfasted on fresh bagels and cream cheese for the first time in months. We sipped strong dark coffee.

We traveled with others who would adventure on, too. We laughed and shared stories and played games. Thanks to our Tica guide, we sang along, motioned along, some, ahem, danced along, to videos from the Carpenters and ABBA. And then we laughed some more.

We crossed the border back and forth without incident, even traversing a rusting old railroad bridge, the missing trestles exposing the river flowing beneath us. We paid less than we expected, and in general, waited for a shorter period than we anticipated, too.

As we passed by the countryside, as we saw the more shades of green than I know words to describe, tropical flowers bright, rusted roofed homes, folks waiting for buses, children in uniform riding their bikes to school, fruit stands waiting for buyers. Who is it that actually pays for bananas when they grow for miles in every direction around you?

And through it all, I marveled that our family has the opportunity to live here. To experience language and culture. To know His grace and His provision.

Yes, the sun comes out again.

And we might try Panama again, too.

(confession:  it took a good part of the weekend for me to be able to just say "Panama," without busting into a VanHalen "Pa-na-mah, Pa-na-ma-ha..." My only plea is that I was a teen in the '80's.  Sadly, once I got THAT chorus out of my head, ABBA replaced it.  I watched the video, and if you really want to know, The Name of the Game seems to be Parchesi...)