The Search for the Perfect Beach (Break)

As I review my previous posts, I realize they're pretty long. Apologies to those of you who may be daunted by the size, but so much happened every day that was almost an assault on our senses. We were constantly busy and on the move. Putting it all down and remembering it is important. So skip the bits that bore you, skim or search for the bits you like, and leave your comments in the comments area if you care to.
:-)

We head to the realtor for another over-an-hour-long chat. Even longer, because Munro showcases our work and tries to drum up business with this company. Once that is finished, time Walter, the licensed realtor from Panama City, is there with additional listings. Now, I adore my husband, but those of you who have spent a lot of time with him know that when he's into his looking/buying mode he thinks he's playing poker and doesn't clearly talk about what he's looking for. As salespeople, we would dismiss him as a tire kicker and not want to spend much time with him - a feeling I get from the folks in the room because their attention wanders frequently. It frustrates the heck out of me because he's hoping to get more info from them by not saying anything and I know that a bullet point type of list of:
- what he wants to spend
- where he wants to live
- type of land he's looking for
- type of house we may want to build
- title or concession issues we want to avoid

is what our realtor needs to hear to want to show us stuff. After about an hour, my New York City genes kick in and I interrupt. I've also overheard a conversation between Jen, the lady land speculator, and a potential client. He's clear, concise, and made an appointment to see land that seems to be what we want. Taking cues from the conversation, we decide on 3 parcels we'd like to look at and make an appointment for the next day. All seem happy and relieved and we head off to bother other realtors in town.

Next stop is a realtor situated at the bottom of a hotel/restaurant on the "Main Street." They turn out to be expat Californians who came here for the sun, surf, and a less complicated lifestyle. Left unsaid are their thoughts that 'the likes of us' and the land sharks/speculators are disrupting this lifestyle.

We get quite a lesson in ROP land vs. titled, what the laws really are or may be changing to. Short story: ROP land was deeded to native Panamanians in order to give everyone their "40 acres and a mule," to borrow a phrase. This land can only be sold if there is a corporation attached and what is sold is a lease of those shares of the corporation. Concessions are also leased, but not every piece of land has or is eligible for concessions. What are concessions, you ask. Well they're actually the right to build or grow crops on your land. Concessions are becoming increasingly difficult to come by because the Panamanian equivalent of the EPA is cracking down on mangrove forest disruption. Therefore, you may "buy" yourself a lovely piece of ROP land on the water, surrounded by mangroves and if there is no prior opening for a dock or even a dock or concessions for a dock, you will have to wade through muck to get to your home. Makes Spring in New England seem positively tidy (never mind the smell, ugh!).

Most of what the first realtor showed us was ROP without clear title or even approved for resale by Panama City. Interesting. We get Jerry and Aleene to take us out by motorboat to a tract of ROP on one of the other islands. It's pretty in photos, but is basically swampland and difficult to get into. Munro wades out through the muck and heads off to survey the property. Sadly, it's hot, airless, on the wrong side of the cove and just basically too expensive.

We head back - the 'commutes' in Bocas are fun. Everything happens on the water. When we were ready to go see this parcel, I headed to the street instead of the dock and was kindly reminded that taxis don't float. A ten minute boat ride is considered below average and twenty minutes well worth it. Considering it takes us at least that long just to get to I-5 on ramps, a 'car' on the water is pretty nice.

Once through with the realtors for today, Munro has planned a bike trek for us. We find the local bike rental place and choose 2 that will actually hold air in the tires, be only marginally painful to ride, and whose chains don't clank too badly. We strike a deal for a 1/2 day rental (because it's already after 1 pm - what a great time to go riding in the tropics...).

Once again, we are carrying scanty provisions but Munro and the bike guy assure me that the 10 kilometers is 'easy and not really that far.' I'm skeptical as I've had these conversations with Munro in the past and have found myself 20 kms from civilization and many miles needed to go before we achieve the perfect place he has deemed we must visit.

The roads vary between potholed blacktop and tan, sandy dirt potholes surrounded by bits of leftover tar. We wobble off in the general direction of the road to Bluff Beach, which I've been assured is one of the most perfect places in the world. About halfway there, the heat and lack of water (did I mention we were ill-provisioned?) and jounce-y roads get the best of us. Fortunately, we meet some natives who are working on beach-side construction and are taking their cocoanut break. They kindly machete open 2 cocoanuts for us and we drink the water - oh it's just so good and refreshing and we toddle off again.

The road turns to pure sand and we start pushing our bikes. A quick stop at a beautiful house 'se vende' to meet the man from Massachusetts who is selling it for a whopping $375,000 (it's really not that pretty and San Diego prices in Bocas are off-putting), and we grab a cab for the rest of the ride.

A cab, you say with your eyebrows raised. Well, yes. We keep passing signs stating "Bluff Beach (Playa Bluff) 5K" and we go what we think should be about 5K and ..... another sign teasing us with 1.5K. This continues through enough signs that the taxi (a pickup truck) takes us the remaining 5K for a whole $2.

Bluff beach is practically deserted and about 1/2 mile long. The sand is golden, the water turquoise, waves gentle (but we do see where there is potential for decent surf), and giant sea grape trees shade the upper part of the beach. Towels down and in the water! We've brought the Leatherman, Robert finds a big stick and levers off a few cocoanuts, and we relax. Bliss at Playa Bluff in Bocas!

The taxi has promised to return around 5:30 and we stay late swimming and walking the beach. When we decide to leave, the shadows are lengthening and the air is significantly cooler so we bike all the way back.

NOTE: Bugs such as no-see-ums, mosquitoes, sand flies, etc. are all over Bocas. I brought a bottle of 100% DEET along with a sunscreen specially formulated with DEET. Didn't help. Bugs in Bocas think DEET is a lovely marinade and thanked me for pre-seasoning myself. They didn't bother Robert much. Not sure what that says about either of our body chemistry, but the bugs voted me tastiest to the point of extreme pain. My pain, not theirs, sadly.

After showers, we head off to dinner at Cocina del mar, upstairs from the Starfleet snorkel tours proves a delight. Inexpensive, like all of Bocas and Panama, the chef is a woman from Brooklyn and turns out perfect meals. Small salad starters, fish in a special white sauce steamed in banana leaves, and perfect pina coladas. Robert finds the hammock on the deck and swings away in the gentle breeze.