Post from Tim:
We ate a leisurely breakfast here in this Panamanian mountain town called Guadalupe. The slow pace and relaxation was well deserved after yesterday's 13-hour return trip from Costa Rica by cab, bus, foot, bus, bus, and cab. Fortunately, sitting in the back of the hot bus made the return trip seem safer - even considering the silent fight I enjoyed with the woman in the next seat over control of the shared window!
After breakfast, we hiked past the small farms in town towards the Parque Internacional La Amistad to look for quetzals. On the way we met Cookie, a huge sausage-shaped slobbering rottweiler. As we walked, Cookie followed and marked his territory along the way. We soon discovered his territory covered every piece of property in town. Peeing on house after house, Cookie left behind a trail of barking dogs.
Once in the park, we walked the lush mountain trails. The cool climate here is the perfect temperature for hiking. We explored for a few hours. The dog remained as quiet as we were, but we never spotted a quetzal.
So now I sit peacefully on a wooden balcony overlooking a street in Guadalupe. It smells like rain. I'm slowly drinking a cup of coffee and watching children play soccer in the street. A light drizzle starts, but the sun still shines on the terraced mountains around me. A woman in Guayni indian dress holding a plaid umbrella walks briskly through the soccer game, and I stop writing for today.
After breakfast, we hiked past the small farms in town towards the Parque Internacional La Amistad to look for quetzals. On the way we met Cookie, a huge sausage-shaped slobbering rottweiler. As we walked, Cookie followed and marked his territory along the way. We soon discovered his territory covered every piece of property in town. Peeing on house after house, Cookie left behind a trail of barking dogs.
Once in the park, we walked the lush mountain trails. The cool climate here is the perfect temperature for hiking. We explored for a few hours. The dog remained as quiet as we were, but we never spotted a quetzal.
So now I sit peacefully on a wooden balcony overlooking a street in Guadalupe. It smells like rain. I'm slowly drinking a cup of coffee and watching children play soccer in the street. A light drizzle starts, but the sun still shines on the terraced mountains around me. A woman in Guayni indian dress holding a plaid umbrella walks briskly through the soccer game, and I stop writing for today.
Photos From This Location
