Sambu ^57
Early morning, I sauntered to the river where people bathed and I watched village
folk go about their daily tasks. We later inquired about a boat to Panama City. The
answer was, yes, there was indeed one, maybe today, maybe tomorrow.
When the boat finally arrived, I was pretty shocked at the state of the old rust
bucket. It didn’t appear seaworthy or capable of reaching the capital. I was further
slightly concerned about getting myself, panniers and bicycle up the narrow
gangplank and onto the deck. Word had it the Doña-Dora was sailing the following
morning. The reason for the delayed departure soon became apparent. The tide
went out leaving the Doña-Dora firmly on the muddy riverbed. At least we knew
she wasn’t sailing without us.
My trundling resulted in an invitation into one of the homes. I was surprised at how
spacious and airy these homes were, and interesting to see they cooked on open
wood fires even inside. A concrete slab was placed in one corner for this very
purpose.
I bought a wrap-around skirt from the lady and felt I blended in a little better (ha-
ha, not that I would ever blend in at all). As there were no shops, vendors pushing
wheelbarrows appeared, selling their wares. Fish, cucumbers, even a cow’s head,
and later the shrimp man, whom Ernest supported. He must’ve overeaten as he
was dreadfully sick during the night. By evening, I sat on the balcony, watching a
lightning display and listening to the sounds of the forest.