You can tell a lot about a place by its form, or rather forms, of transportation. Whether you are riding up a river by dugout canoe, or down it by raft, cruising the roads in a retrofitted school bus or zipping around in a mini-taxi, transportation depends on the people that use it and the surroundings. Here’s my breakdown of the regions of Panama by modes of transportation:

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After a sweaty two-hour hike to the Naso community of Bunjik, the first thing I wanted to know was how can I get back without walking. The friendly community leader, Raul, laid down the options. If I didn't want to walk I would have to wait for a boat, though there is no telling when those come. Then, in a passing comment, he mentioned another option - rafting. Of course I was suddenly curious, so I asked a few questions, and sure enough rafting was an option. This is the poor-man's option, so naturally as a poor traveler, I took it. Here's how it works:

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Pedasí is a small town in Panama with some serious fish around it. I have never been fishing before, but I came in to this town with a friend who told me I absolutely had to try fishing with her. Up for a new experience, I agreed and at 5am the next morning I was in her jeep heading for the dock. There we met our fisherman Avidel who was not looking all that great from a late night of drinking. It took him a while to get his little boat ready, as the tides had moved it on the concrete.

After a half hour of getting eaten alive in the mangroves, we were off for the open seas. Gunning our 40 horsepower engine, within an hour and a half we could no longer see land. It’s right about then that I realized that we didn’t have life jackets…or a radio. Putting all the bad scenarios to the back of my head, we started fishing. For those of you who have, as I did, an image of fishing as a leisurely activity, think again. This tiny boat get taken for a serious ride in the open seas. Its at the mercy of huge ocean swells, and for even those who don’t normally get seasick, 6 hours can take its toll.

After an hour of restless waiting, we got our first bite. A total amateur, I picked up the rod as I was told and started to reel in, but as I soon came to realize this is a lot harder than I expected. These fish are big and strong, and before you can pull them in, they pull the line WAY out. The rods are designed to dump the stress of the fish’s pull by letting out line, so no matter how hard I crank, it can swim far away. Eventually the fish gets tired though, so minute by minute, with all my arm strength I start crankin’ it in. 15min later, I got my first fish, a Dorado, as it is called here, better known as a Mahi Mahi. The thing was half my size, weighing a whopping 50lbs. The rest of the day brought a lot more excitement. At 2pm I got back, burnt to a crisp with five dorado and two tuna. That night we ate well—pounds of raw tuna.

After 37 days of public transport, yesterday I rented a car for what should have been an easy day trip. Famous last words.

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Pedasí is a small town with some serious fish around it. I have never been fishing before, but I came in to this town with a friend who told me I absolutely had to go out with her. Up for a new experience, I agreed and at 5am the next morning I was in her jeep heading for the dock. There we met our fishermen—Avidel—who not looking all so great from a late night of drinking.  Apparently, this is pretty typical. So it took him a while to get his little boat ready, especially considering the tides had essentially parked it on the concrete.

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I write this blog entry having just emerged from the Darien, the great unknown province of Panama. Perhaps best known as the end of the road, the Darien Gap is the only gap in the entire Transamerican highway from northern Alaska to Tierra Del Fueg; it's a huge expanse of primary rainforest penetrable only on foot or in dugout canoe. It is sparsely populated by the few traditional Embera and Wounaan, who manage to live comfortably in the inhospitable environment. They know the terrain with amazing accuracy--they are to the Darien what Sherpas are to the Himalayas. Traveling in the Darien  is not for everyone: its wet, hot, itchy and generally uncomfortable, but its one hell of an adventure.

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Playa de Muerto  ("beach of death") is a hidden gem of Panama. Mountainous jungles surround the sparsely populated Ember village on three sides, opening up to the expansive Pacific Ocean. But getting to this little paradise is no walk in the park. The easiest option is to get a boat, but unless you have the money to shell out for a private trip, you'll need to hop on the public ferry. It only comes once a week and is loaded with everything the village needs for the week, namely propane, gasoline and other highly hazardous items. The trip only take 1.5 hours from the nearest town with a fast motor, but  large swells and harrowing waves of the open seas make it a bumpy ride. By the time I got inland my butt was seriously sore,  so I was happy to arrive at this beach paradise and crawl up in a thatched hut for the night.

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