Small wakes from the local ferry jostle
Dardanella on this early Saturday morning. The motion rolls me around in my
bunk, as though the boat were telling me to wake up and join the day. Try to go back to sleep and get rolled
again. I give up and swing myself into a
sitting position. This isn’t going to get any better today. Ferries and fishing boats zip closely by
Dardanella’s side several times a day, so we have become used to the occasional
sway or unexpected wave that sends you stumbling into the nearest corner. I can
only battle it so long in the mornings, and reluctantly dangle my feet over the
bottom bunk waiting for my eyes to adjust. My roommate is on a month long trip
to South Africa. I have the room to
myself and it is a luxury looking down and not having to step over someone to
hit the ground. Several of my crewmates
have taken the weekend to get out of Panama City, so I am not only enjoying the
freedom of a room and bathroom to myself
this weekend, but a boat with only a couple people on it, quiet and
home. I jump out into the crew mess and
no one is up yet. I have the television
to myself to watch the morning news without a running crew commentary, the
toastie machine all for me and the coffee pot. Today is going to be great. Now I just have to figure out what to do with
it. There are a lot of options.
Panama City is a book all on its own. It is
a city that wakes up with hot mornings and lately ends with a breezy cool
night. Cab drivers drive locals and
tourists through the alleyways and highways for a fair price that must be
haggled, roads lit up with yellow and black vehicles. American and European tourists walk in the old
town of Casco Viejo with Panama hats and cameras flickering at the colonial
ruins and churches. The women from the
local Kuna Indian tribe sell their wares and woven baskets while cradling a
small child swaddled in bright colors and wraps. The evenings are littered with
foreign backpackers drinking rum at the local bar with a bowl of ceviche and
casinos full of old white men picking out a Colombian prostitute for their hour. Lots of locals come to the Causeway de Amador
where we are staying to get out of the city for the day and ride a bike down
the long peninsula to the small island of shops, tiki bars, and marinas. Sloths
and iguanas move around in the trees that line the marina, while raccoons and
cats play together near the entrance. Fishermen come home from their sun soaked
day with Tuna and Dorado. Cabs take
people up and down the Causeway and the sun sets over the Canal where I usually
take an evening walk.
Today I will probably enjoy the city,
however, in Casco Viejo, my favorite part.
It is beautiful, feels safe, clean-ish, with alcoves and doorways,
garden bars hidden in hostels, top notch restaurants nestled in refurbished
historical colonial buildings, breweries, and water-front walkways with artists
everywhere selling and creating. There
are bright murals and graffiti splashing color on the white washed walls that
line many of the narrow streets in Casco, large dark wooden doors with heavy
brass knocks, an occasional stray dog or cat, and brick ruins of buildings soon
to be refurbished in this small piece of progress. It is very tourist friendly and reminds me a
lot of Taicang Lu in Shanghai. It is an
easy place to get lost in with a camera and an appetite. I will miss this old town when we leave in a
month.
Coming here from Costa Rica was a welcome
change. The two locations couldn’t be
more different so there is a definite “grass is always greener” effect going
on. Costa Rica is lush, green, beautiful
beaches, local surf spots, small cities and towns, remote and quiet. Though Panama certainly offers the same
experience outside the city we don’t really get that here. Panama City is a big city, dirty, noisy, lots
of people to meet, lots of restaurants to try, shopping, and history with malls
and skyscrapers. When we left Golfito in
Costa Rica we were waking up to glass-like waters, morning kayaks, rain in the
afternoon that didn’t let up till the evening.
We would walk up the wooden dock in rain jackets to the marina
restaurant the Banana Bay, and use their Wi-Fi while sipping a beer for a
couple dollars. Weekends we would go to
the local surf spot or nearby beach and play outside all day. There weren’t a lot of people to meet, there
wasn’t much to do after dark, and provisioning was a joke. But it was amazing,
nonetheless. Panama City is a welcome
change for the crew to be somewhere to send packages home, buy a new set of
headphones, go out to a movie theater, eat and stock up on foods so hard to
find in Costa Rica, or to enjoy the nightlife and meet other people. I personally have met a lot of nice people in
the city and know that returning here is a possibility in my future. Provisioning for me as a chef is also
preferable here. Panama offers what I
need, as they are on the U.S. dollar and have a strong international draw. The fish market here is amazing, with a
ceviche market adjacent to enjoy with a nice cold beer in hand. It has been a welcome break for me to get
everything I need and a time of appreciation, both for what I had in Costa Rica
and for the friends I have met here and gotten to enjoy while I can.
As for the yacht life, I am wiggling my way
back into it like a duck to water. We do
live such an unusual life, even for yachties, and one of a lot of privilege for
our hard work and trade of freedom. As a
yacht chef, I couldn’t be more grateful.
I get to travel the world and learn other cuisines, learn to provision
and negotiate with all sorts of vendors from fishing boats, to trading with
neighbors and asking local restaurant owners for advice. I walk through the local fish market during my
workday and pick fresh local produce from the fresh produce outdoor
market. I’ve gotten to know several of
the fishermen on the dock and a couple of them have given me some of their
catches in exchange for fresh baked cookies and fish tacos. My crewmates catch
fish for sport, and I get to cook it for sport.
No complaints there! We do work hard, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week
and non-stop 17-hour days when the boss is onboard. But we are greatly rewarded for our efforts.
The only other downside is living in such close quarters with people you don’t
choose who are from all over the world…but it sometimes lends for amazing
friendships…which we have…and for interesting debates and growth of open
mindedness. We sometimes want to
strangle each other but we mostly get along great and live very close lives to
each other.
And of course…the life on a boat is the
best part. We got to stop at small
deserted islands for several days on the way from Costa Rica in order to do
scuba diving and surfing “research” for our boss’ recent trip. Late night
watches at sea sitting up at the wheel in the bridge watching the boat dip in
the waves, coffee in hand, a comedy recording playing in the background as my
crewmate and I giggle into the darkness looking out for other boats. Next morning we are anchored somewhere else
and exploring the reefs and surf breaks there.
After our Christmas charter, we anchored out into the bay of this small
deserted island near the city of David, full moon hanging above, no other boats
around. I paddle boarded out to the
small island, about ¼ mile in circumference, with a dry bag, a tent, and a
couple beers and snacks. I lit myself a
small fire and slept the night under the stars listening to the waves crash on
both sides of the island and the occasional hermit crab trying to get into the
tent. Not a bad way to spend Christmas
day.
I know I sound like an asshole when I say this,
but it is easy to take this for granted because it becomes such a closeted and
unique experience. More and more so
these days when we are in the city and living closer to a normal life than when
we were in Costa Rica. When I step outside of it and spend time with my friends
in Panama City, I realize how rare and special this experience is. I get to live a life that not a lot of other
people get to live. When my day ends on land, I walk down to the end of the
marina, radio the boat, and the small tender departs from the side of the big
boat to come pick me up. One of the boys
arrives shirtless in a pair of board shorts, sunglasses, music blasting, and a
relaxed smile. I jump in the boat, he
hands me a beer, and we drive out into the bay back to the boat swaying in the waves
with the sun setting in the distance.
