Sixteen Tons album cover. Image thanks to wikipedia.
Suspicion followed me at home in Bocas Town for my recent habit of trying to stash away some money every week in order to have enough cash to contribute to Pug’s upkeep. Her Aunt and the rest of her family were imagining all sorts of things I figured , that I was doing with my money as there was a lot of prostitution going on in Baseline catering to the workforce. Continue reading
The mighty Changuinola River from the air. Image thanks to Burica.
Finally the train pulled out from in front of the Chinese Bar and Restaurant in Almirante headed for the last stop, a town by the name of Baseline. I had been apprehensive all the while since I knew nothing about traveling anywhere in the country of Panama. It was the fist time for me to really leave the urban areas of Panama and Colon to go anywhere in the world. As the train picked up speed and we sped through the lush jungle toward our destination, for some reason I envisioned that the jungle would one day try to reclaim the area of the rails upon which it was running. Continue reading
Almirante, Bocas del Toro. Image thanks to travelpod.com
It was a dark and starless night that night as we headed for Bocas del Toro. For some reason I found myself standing alone next to a wooden bunk. I was patiently waiting for the girl of my dreams, my would be wife, the one who would make me a father, to return to my side from some errand or the other on board. Continue reading
Image thanks to bocasbound.com
The issue of Pug’s pregnancy became a partner issue that many teenagers share with looking for work which involved the never-ending quest for any job situation which would help us maintain ourselves. Although I was still partially employed and still living the student/bachelor life, hanging out now and then on the corner of 11th Street in front of a bar feeding the jukebox, things obviously had to change. I was still making new friends, which had never been a problem in Colon. The city had become a wonderland for me. Continue reading
The image is of an exquisite pot of Rundon, or rundown, as it is variously called- Jamaican style.
That school year, in fact, I had stayed off the streets as much as possible and stayed at home mostly reading all the books I was able to understand from the odd collection amongst the three small bookshelves in the home of my now retired grandmother. School would soon be a thing of the past I thought as I leafed through some French volumes left to me by Miss Del Marie just before she left to return to Martinique. Continue reading
This is a rather tourist like shot of
Bocas del Toro. Image.
It was the year 1950 and the seemingly endless year of 1949 had passed with many political happenings that I would remember all my life. I would usually end my days at the dental clinic where I had been drawn to in order to stay off the streets. It might have been the place that I would end up spending my summer as that year closed on my adolescent activities. Continue reading