Saturday, 24 January 2009 12:37
Last Updated on Monday, 03 May 2010 19:50
I've been around Panama now for something like four years, a time in which I've traveled like a mischievous sprite to the nation's rural valleys and the barren beaches. I've met and lived with its indigenous tribes, I've explored its jagged coastline by air, land and sea, and I've hiked its most wild and isolated peaks. In a way, I've turned the glove of Panama inside out, enjoying both its well-known attractions and largely nameless hidden gems. I've spelunked in Darien, I've suntanned in Cambutal, and I've driven the treacherous Carretera Llano Carti all the way to San Blas. I've visited pre-Columbian gravesites amidst the jungles of Veraguas, I've hunted iguanas in Chiriqui, and I've bet on cockfights in the heart of Chorillo. But I can't say my relationship with Panama has ever been that in-depth.
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