Panama Gone Wild

The formation of the Isthmus of Panama some three million years ago is considered the most important event in the evolutionary history of the western hemisphere.  It did nothing less than enable an astounding variety of fauna and flora to migrate from one continental mass to another.

In the local native language, "Panama" means "abundance of fish and butterflies." The isthmus' several life zones contain about 960 species of birds, 220 species of mammals, 240 species of reptiles, 175 species of amphibians, and more than 10,000 species of vascular plants.

Smaller in size than South Carolina and with fewer than four million residents, the Republic of Panama covers 29,761 square miles. Over 25 percent of its territory is protected as national parks and nature reserves. Here in the heart of the Americas, the Smithsonian Institution established the world's most advanced laboratory for tropical biological research.

Panama is an appealing place for American travelers. The US dollar is the main currency - and there are plenty of tasteful bargains it can pay for.  The capital, Panama City, is only about a three-hour flight from Miami. (Though the country is on EST, in reality it unofficially observes "Panama" or "Island Time."  If people or planes are late, it is not a calamity.)  Spanish is the chief language, but English is commonly spoken in cities. And other than mudslides and flooding during the rainy season, there are purportedly no horrific natural catastrophes such as hurricanes, earthquakes, and tornadoes.

My ten-day visit to Panama was divided into four phases.  Throughout, I mingled with indigenous people to a greater extent than in all my previous continental journeys.  Panamanians are exceptionally friendly, and I was tremendously enriched by the opportunity.

DARIEN

"There's a frog in your toilet," said Deibys, after checking my quarters for varmints. "Do you want to room with it or take my hut at the far end?"

Since planes were running late, I had ridden four hours by van over the partially paved Pan American Highway. My group endured four border checkpoints, with one 30-minute delay. At Puerto Quimba, we boarded a motorized dugout canoe for a 90-minute skim beneath a starry sky. Reaching our destination, we disembarked and trudged another half-mile Survivor-style up an unknown trail interspersed with cows, reptiles, and whatever else lurked in the dark.

I chose to cohabit with ubiquitous chirping geckos in Hut #10. The thought of a strange herptile hopping on my bum sent shivers up my spine.