The eight of us left Naranjo Chico to Isla Perro to snorkel. There were a lot of people on this new island because it was Sunday.
The island has a shipwreck about 20 metres from shore. The ship was rusted and belongs to the San Blas Islands now. Corals grow on it bringing new inhabitants of fish. I was snorkelling in and around the ship with my GoPro camera. I’m trying to be a hero in the water or an imposter. The currents near the ship made swimming difficult, especially with one hand holding the GoPro. At one moment I couldn’t resist the current and my body drifted into a big-chested Latina near the ship. She didn’t mind me colliding into her. I said sorry and was on my way.
I took some good footage of Fernando, who is a physician from Spain and Clara from Chile. I don’t know what she does for living but I imagine her being a model with her height, slightly-freckled face and tan complexion.
Later on in the day, I’m sitting in a hammock watching a fiesta of the Kuna Tribe getting underway. “Feliz Cumpleanos…” is coming from the stereo. The women are wearing red bandanas with small, yellow tribal symbols and colourful poncho-like blouses (molas), black-and-yellow or black-and-orange long skirts, and black-and-orange tribal socks. The tribal designs would be random or an animal.
The kids were sitting with their mothers, aunts, or sisters around two large, squared tables placed beside each other. One table had baby-blue, birthday gift bags, the other, pink.
The men were missing, most likely left behind on their islands.
There was no dancing; they were just sitting around eating, staring, and listening to the music. It reminded me of my elementary school dances. I was informed by other travellers the party was for a one-year-old.
I thought they would all eventually start dancing, but they left at night. I ate their left-over cake which was cut into rectangles and served with melted, chocolate ice cream. I used the ice-cream to moisten the cake.
There was no electricity or plumbing on the island. I believe the Kuna used a battery for the minimal electricity they needed. They brought in barrels of water by boat for the shower and jugs of drinking water. The hut roofs were thatched with palm tree leaves and walled with cane sticks (I am not 100% certain of the type of plant used to build).
There isn’t much to do in these islands of Panama, yet, it is still full of life. I plan to return one day.