Monday, March 6, 2006

This morning everything seemed lighter. What happened last night was almost like a joke, though we all admitted to having been terrified at the time. Apparently we'd been going along normally when the depth reading dropped abruptly from thirty meters to eight, to seven, and then all the way to three meters and two and then - bam - we hit a reef.

We discussed it endlessly the way people do after anything scary happens, from a fender-bender to September 11. "I was standing here," "I was doing this," "The first thing I thought was that." They were all talking about the movie The Perfect Storm, which I haven't seen. No one mentioned the Middle Passage.

Michael had no memory of accusing the Captain of almost killing us and he was dismayed by the posibility that he might have done so. "Are you sure I didn't say 'Is it the mast or the keel?'" he said. Maybe. I mean, I was pretty terrified at the time, so I could definitely have heard wrong. "Is it the MAST or the KEEL?" "You alMAST KEELed us." Let's go with that theory, because Michael feels terrible about it.

A couple of the guys pulled out some snorkeling gear and dove down to have a look at the keel. I learned that a sailboat's keel weighs about eight tons and its weight is what keeps the boat from tipping over irretreivably. You can tip way over, but the heavy keel will make you swing back upright again. So you don't want to damage your keel. Anyway, ours was a bit scraped and battered, but nothing serious.

We were at Porvenir Island, in the Comarca de Kuna Yala, which includes the approximately three hundred sixty San Blas Islands. Though a part of Panama, the "comarca" means it's an autonomous region of the Kuna people. You need special permission from the Kuna to be here, aside from the passport stamp permitting you to be in Panama.

So the Captain ferried us ashore in the dinghy (this took a couple of trips because Jesus, there sure are a lot of us on this boat) and then went to take care of the formalities, including stamping us out of Panama, while we just hung around appreciating being on land. The island is so small that you can see most of it while standing in one spot, but it's still land. Sweet land.

There is a small airstrip on Porvenir, so small that when you watch the teeny planes land, you wonder if they're going to be able to stop in time to keep from sliding right off the other side of the island and into the ocean. There was some talk about escaping the boat and flying back to Panama City, but no one was serious.

The water is a gorgeous Carribean green-blue and we frolicked in it for a while. My swimsuit was back at the boat, so I had to frolic in my underwear and a tank top. There was no way I was missing out on that amazing water. (Water is good when it's right next to land.)

Buying a soda at the small hotel/restaurant, Michael and I met the captain and passengers of the [Fancier Boat Than Ours], which had been in Portobelo at the same time as the [cool sailboat], though it had left before Michael and I got there.

The [Fancier Boat Than Ours] is a gorgeous boat, one hundred forty-seven feet. It has eleven people on board, including the staff. The [cool sailboat], if you'll recall, is fifty-two feet and has sixteen people on board. The [Fancier Boat Than Ours] is owned by a South African family. Their daughter, who goes to a fancy university in the U.S., had invited a few of her friends on a sailing trip for spring break. Must be nice.

After all the stamping was taken care of, the captain took us in the dinghy over to another island, where his girlfriend knew someone. She was bringing the family some clothes and the Captain said we could have a look inside their house and see how they live. That island was much more populated, with lots of thatch-roofed huts. The ground was a smooth layer of white sand.

The house had cane walls and a thatched roof and contained a few hammocks and one foam mattress on a frame. There were clothes hanging from all the cane roof beams. I don't know what they needed with more clothes, as the women all wore traditional Kuna clothes which they must make themselves, and the children wear underwear, if that. But the men wear Western style t-shirts and shorts.

We bought a couple of molas, which are "the" handicrafts of the area, squares of colored cloth sewn together in patterns of sealife and geometry. The second one we bought from a man whom I thought was a woman throughout our entire transaction. And we were there for a while, because it takes me forever to choose things.

He even showed me a half-made mola so I could see how much work goes into them. He was so feminine that I didn't even take into consideration his flat chest and the fact that he was not wearing the fancy molas and beadwork of a Kuna woman. (One point for the "nature" side of the argument.)

After that, we set sail again, but in the daylight sailing wasn't as bad and after just a few hours we were dropping anchor again, at Chichime, between two small islands covered with palm trees. The [Fancier Boat Than Ours] was already there.

The near island was home to two Kuna families and the Captain got their permission for us to come ashore and have a bonfire in the evening. So in the twilight after dinner, we went ashore and were greeted by the Kuna.

By the time Michael and I got to the shore, on the second dinghy-trip, there was a roaring fire of dried palm leaves. There was also beer, wine, and rum galore, which I guess came from the other backpackers. See, now there's some planning ahead. The Kuna also had pot and cocaine for sale.

The two Kuna guys and almost everyone else got wasted. I didn't, because I didn't want to drink up other people's alcohol and also because I'm always afraid someone's going to fall into the fire. The Captain's girlfriend did not shy away from the liquor, but she also provided more wholesome refreshments: marshmallows, hot dogs, and the skewers to toast them on. Also toilet paper for the ladies. She is a very cool lady. She only speaks Spanish, but somehow I understand everything she says.

A couple of kids were hiding behind a tree and watching us. Their hiding wasn't very effective since they were sitting under the lantern and we all knew they were there, but it was cute. After the fiesta, most of the boat elected to sleep (or pass out, as the case may be) on the beach. A few people had hammocks and the others had sleeping bags or didn't mind sleeping right on the sand.

Michael is not a person who sleeps on the beach. So he and I and Paul went back to the boat, where we slept well and peacefully all night on the calm water. Much, much better than last night. Sailing might be okay after all.

 

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Kuna ladies in a rowboat, off Porvenir.

I would like to see the person who would thow trash on these islands.

Porvenir's landing strip.

This is the first mola we bought.

This is the second mola we bought. I think it's much more amazing than the other. Each color you see is a different layer of cloth.

Sun setting over Chichime.