You can't get there from here

My afternoon did not go as planned. When I got in at the airport, I couldn't get a taxi ride because they wanted the 3-4 passenger groups-they charge by the person, and it's not metered, so a single fare is a lot like a one-top in the restaurant world. Not worth their time. The fare is whatever they can get, with some unspoken minimum based on the length of the trip. So I walked out to the street and flagged down a passing taxi. When I asked him how much (important to do before getting in the cab), he said back-how much will you pay? Since I knew what I'd paid for the same trip in reverse, I dropped the figure a couple of dollars, and said $2. He said ok, and in I went. But then things got harder. I could not find a bus for Gamboa. I asked several people, one of whom said to take the del Sabor bus. This I did, but the driver had never heard of the stop I wanted, and when we pulled back into the Gran Terminal, I knew I'd just had a lovely air conditioned cool-down but I was still back where I'd started. Oh, except now I had seen the town of Clayton, and I'd seen the US Embassy, should I have need of it. I went again in search of someone who knew and with whom I could communicate. By the third person, I realized the problem-I needed to go to the other side of the terminal-not where the metro buses run but where the chicken buses run. Oh. But I need a card to get through the gate. So that entailed a visit to a window, where I paid $1.25 just for a card to get to the bus loading zone-I still don't understand that but it was the only way to get through the turnstile, since jumping it didn't seem like a very good idea. Yet again, I asked for the bus to Gamboa, and it was pointed out to me. I got on the bus and since the driver was chatting on his cell phone, I asked the Committee of Concerned Riders if the bus went to Gamboa. One of them was sufficiently acquainted with the driver to interrupt his call and ask him, to which he answered yes. Then I tried to pay with the card I had just bought, and the Committee kindly informed me that the fare was cash only and that I was to pay when I got off. Ok. Gracias. I sat down. Not even 30 seconds later the Committee was back in action. Not my bus. This bus was in fact not going to Gamboa, but some other place that the man in front of me said was not close to Gamboa. Disappointing news, but better than a long pointless ride on the not-air conditioned, bumpy, lumpy chicken bus. So I thanked the Committee and assured them of my vote for them in the next election, and exited the bus. Back to square one. At last I was told that the next Gamboa bus left at 4:30. It was now almost 3. Ok. So I'm taking a taxi. And off I went, but all was not finished. Turns out Gamboa is in BFE, and once there, the driver had no idea where Ivan's B&B was. We asked a few people, and I must confess that I was by this point a bit grumpy. I was regretting this plan to stay at Ivan's, and wholly unhappy with the time taken for the trip. All my doing, but still grumpy. As we drove away from the 3rd or 4th person, they called out to us and pointed down the street. There stood Ivan waving us in. I won't share the words that I was muttering to myself but you can imagine at least some of them. Ivan was Mr. Cheerful and within 30 seconds of my arrival said "You are really lucky I had room". At this point I noticed that I must be in fact a grown up, because I did NOT say what I wanted to say at that point. I did not find it possible to agree with him just then, but I maintained a discreet silence. I'm happy to report that things started looking up from there. There is only one other guest here, Kevin from Brisbane, Australia. He is in Panama for a diving trip but here for a few days doing some birding and other adventures. Dinner and breakfast come with the package, which is good because the next closest food is at least 10 minutes by car, and I don't have a car. And I don't think taxis come out here looking for fares. So tonight Ivan, Kevin and I shared stories over spaghetti and cherry pie, and then Ivan trusted us alone in the house while he and his wife Gladys went down the street for a social call. Not being sure of Ivan's sense of humor, I didn't play any practical jokes on him. But by tomorrow night, who knows? I'll be part of the family by then. I walked down to the canal before dinner. This town was built when the canal was built, specifically to house the employees of the dredging division. It's a company town, and feels strangely silent and haunted. Lots of jungle, birds and other wildlife in and around it though. I can hear something outside my window right now, and I think I may have nightmares about the strange creature I saw earlier. It looked a lot like a miniature sloth and when I asked Ivan what it was, he named it and said it is a sort of large rodent-like animal. Oh goodie. If I sound less than enthusiastic about this spot, it's only because I am. And I know who chose it, which makes it worse, of course. But the people are nice, and it's too late now. Up early tomorrow and off to see the canal, the Miraflores locks, and the Causeway. Or so the plan says.