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Panama Vacation: A weekend at the beach PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Matt Landau   
Sunday, January 29 2006
When you go to the beach for the weekend you expect certain things. You expect not to find a parking spot for instance. You expect overpriced restaurants that serve under-par food. And you definitely expect lots of people. Not on a Panama vacation.

Santa Clara is a little over an hour as the crow flies, outside of Panama City and it's a diamond in the rough. It's the kind of place that immediately gets your mind thinking of quicker ways to retire and move there for good. Just a look out over a bluff, will show that the potential here is staggering.

We shook over this pebbled, pot-hole ridden drive way that led to the beach, pulling up along side two idle horses under a droopy palm tree—we had arrived. The beach belonged in a movie. You know, the beach where the loveable yet evil conman is in the last scene wearing linen, swinging in a hammock and sipping a daiquiri? This was that beach and I was that conman: Just me, bright blue sparkling water, toasty sand, and miles of virgin coast.

There were these sexy little $3 thatch cabanas that you could rent out for the day and I wasn't about to pass one up. I watched as fishermen in their dugout canoes and rusted clothes came and went. I swayed in my sleepy hammock, sunshine bouncing off the ocean, loving the light floaty breeze, slurping up my fresh lemonade—this was the life. Snoozes on the beach? Lunches of fresh fish and fried yucca? Dips in the cozy water? Crows hopping around off in the distance? I could get used to this.

We hit up this Panamanian disco that looked like it could have been some large-scale family reunion; everyone talking, laughing, singing and dancing. Pretty soon, my six hours in the sun was catching up to me—in no time, I was doing theatrical shaolin moves with a local guy who claimed to be Roberto Duran's brother.

That evening, with that familiar, tight, sun-seared feeling on my skin, we went to a friend's house for dinner—this chill-centric Tuscan-style villa perched way up on a cliff overlooking the ocean. My Panama Vacation was turning out just the way I wanted it to. We ate on the deck and watched the sun paint this ruby orange shade over the pacific. The beer flowed like wine and as the night slowly crept away from us, under the shooting stars of Santa Clara, things were good.

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Last Updated ( Tuesday, July 17 2007 )