A few great picture moments over the last 10 days

I had to start with the most famous..

A great installation that showed a video from inside a ships cab..

One of the monsters passing through with only 24 inches breathing space either side..

The little stream outside my house in Boquete before the rain..

And the same 'stream' six hours later..

My favourite local honey!

And not just any espresso: this is Gesha coffee from The Ruiz coffee growers in Boquete, in 2012 this particular coffee broke world records as the most expensive coffee in the world. Even at source today it is $160/kg.. 

and it tastes amazing! 

Atop Volcán Baru

Dawn..

and sunrise..

from the summit..

having wiggled a lot to get there!..

and walked up some pretty hefty hills..

Was it worth it? 

Every step!

Night-time jungle exploring

Waking up this morning there is very little to bely the heroic efforts of yesterday's climb up Volcán Baru. I feel surprisingly normal which in some ways makes me feel great for having a body that can tough it out, and also slightly un-nerved that perhaps it was actually all a dream. Fortunately for me I have two groaning companions who fared slightly less well and can testify to my presence. 

As Panamá's highest point the dormant volcano, often shrouded in cloud, is an obvious "must do" for anyone stepping off the bus in the Chiquiri province. Most people however do it in a 4x4 rather than wrestle with the challenge of a 14km,1700 vertical metre hike starting at midnight. With a gradient worth respecting, a track swimming in mud and boulders and no sleep I feel quite proud of myself for maintaining a measly 2.5km/hr on the ascent. And even more proud that I was whooping and smiling as dawn came and the sky exploded into colour. 

As you well know by now it absolutely pours with rain in the afternoon but the beneficial result of this is clear skies from around eleven pm until around nine am the next day. This makes a midnight hike not only an adventure (this is tropical rainforest not the South Downs Way, with it's resident jaguars, snakes and other various hungry carnivores on the hunt) but also almost guarantees clear skies for the duration of the climb and most importantly for the summit.  The moon, full and shining brightly, casts silvery light down through the canopy catching tree bark and lichens and outlining the forest to contrast against the inky blue sky. Quite extraordinarily and something that filled me with wonder was that throughout the night at some place in the sky (never directly overhead) there was lightening striking and thunder letting out it's ominous growl. As we climbed we gained an elevation advantage over the clouds and began to see the lightening from above, something I have only previously witnessed from an aeroplane. 

Throughout the night we were accompanied by the various cries and calls of the jungle night. At one point my hyperactive imagination (or maybe not..) thought that we were being stalked but it was just wishful thinking that the monotonous grunt of slipping over greasy boulders might soon come to an end with a spectacular wrestle with the illusive jaguar. 

Suffice to say we made it to the top. Chasing time as we so often seem to do in life I sped up for the last two km to ensure that I didn't miss the sunrise I so desperately wished to see.  And sure enough, as the dawn light began to glow we rounded the final corners, rested weary legs and sat on the rocks to watch a glimmering orange sun rise and fill the skies with pinks and yellows.  Elated and having unceremoniously plonked ourselves on the ground we dug around our bags for the assortment of squashed sandwiches and crumbled biscuits we had brought for a picnic and, hiding from the cold wind at the summit, ate them with smug satisfaction. A satisfaction, however, that was not to last too long: as those of you who walk in the hills will know the descent is more often than not the devil of the hike, especially for the knees. 

Lying here in my hammock the morning after however, the fiery heat in my knees is only a memory and I am left only with fabulous memories and photos to match.  This mini adventure marks the end of my time in Boquete, it's time to pack up my spanish dictionary and head across to my new home for the next few months: Bocas del Toro and the crew of Floating Doctors. 

So my next entry will be from a whole new world. Stethoscope and hammock in hand, the fun is well and truly about to begin.

Kicking back in Boquete

There is a bird in my bedroom. Probably something most men would be elated to discover, but for me it comes as a slightly puzzling surprise. Sneaky little critter, I only noticed him/her when (lets call it a she) she let out a chattering squak from under my bed. I was half expecting to find one of the local kids down there playing a practical joke but no, there stood a little red headed, black and white speckled little bird. I'm guessing she doesn't think much of the weather either and has come in for a bit of R&R. There's probably a feast of foodcrumbs under my bed as the little two year old of the house, Hosue, has been galavanting around my room, cookies in hand.

It'll be no surprise to those of you following my travels that it is raining once more. I've decided though that this must not dampen my efforts to explore .. as the spanish say (at least according to Luis) "no está hechas de azucár" which literally translated means something along the lines of "you are not made of sugar" but I'm assuming it relates to me not dissolving in the rain.. 

So I've left the little bird to fatten itself upon my cookie crumbs and have ventured out to Bamboo Spa for an hours massage. Not exactly mega exploring I hear you cry, but I like to think of it as exploring the holistic and soothing side of the valley. After all I will be hiking up Volcán Baru a 3500m volcano tomorrow starting at midnight.. 

Thunder and blackouts

Sat here in a little local cafe, lights blinking as the electricity struggles through ancient bare wires, I'm wondering just how wet is it possible to get just by crossing the road? Given that at this present moment I can't even see the other side, I'm guessing pretty damned wet. I pose this question not through wont of another thought, but as I have been sat in this seat for two hours now hoping that the rain might ease up enough to cross to the taxi stand. It turns out that the rainforest is well and truly living up to it's name.

Rain and bone-shaking thunder included (of which there is a spectacular show every afternoon), I am very much enjoying this little town of Boquete. It is nestled in an impressive, fertile valley which is reflected everywhere you go. El quetzal, a favourite and endangered brightly coloured bird, is painted everywhere! Hand-painted panoramic forest-scapes cover the interior of cafes and shops lending a friendly, almost childlike quality to the atmospheres.

Spanish classes began on Monday and are both hard work and exceptionally rewarding. It's just Luis, my teacher, and me. I'm benefiting so much so that I have arranged with the sister school in Bocas to continue classes twice a week for the entirety of my stay in Panama. What sense does it make to half learn the language when I have the opportunity to continue studying? And anyhow it'll come as a welcome break from pulling worms out of people's feet...

Panama City and beyond

Well i'm very much alive and kicking! It's been a fantastic first few days of exploring.  Stepping out alone as a young, white, blonde female is always a challenge to local men and the familiar cry 'que guapa' (something akin to what builders say in the UK) rings out from street corners, balconies and cars. It is not threatening or aggressive in any way and after getting used to it, it's absence can sometimes feel insulting, does my bum not look good in these jeans?!

Casco Viejo is the old fortified part if town that I have been staying in. Left to ruin by the city folk decades ago as the main city moved east to accommodate it's rapid growth, this old area has recently benefited from investment by boutique hoteliers, restaurants and bars, turning it into a new 'must visit' area of the city. It reminds me very much of Havana - seriously crumbling, derelict houses (still with inhabitants) rubbing shoulders with sparkling air conditioned marble floored coffee shops. It's an odd mix but strangely seems to work, contrasting to Havana (where locals are never seen in expensive places) a lot of Panamanians come here to relax and party. There is still of course a major divide between rich and poor, but it is a domestic divide as much as a tourist one so somehow it doesn't feel so bad.

I visited the 8th wonder of the world yesterday as National Geographic call it.. The Panama Canal. And what a sight it is! Huge, and I mean huge, ships navigate the same style of locks that you see on the Thames (slightly larger and more controlled I must admit). 10years, 250,000 workmen (many dying of malaria and yellow fever), millions of dollars and an engineering feat of it's generation likened to landing on the moon. Quite something to behold.

Today I flew to David to catch a bus up to Boquete -  a small rainforest village renowned for it's coffee (known as Geisha it broke records in 2012 for being the most expensive coffee in the world), hiking, white water rafting and importantly for me, it's Spanish school. I will be living with a local lady Miriam for the week and having 6hrs a day of classes in an attempt to jump start my learning and give me a better chance at communicating well with my future patients. I have plenty of reading to do - my Spanish GCSE revision book, phrase book, medical essential phrases etc.

Miriam, a widow, used to be a salsa teacher and apparently loves nothing more than to teach her lodgers to dance.. So here goes! My last salsa experience was in Santiago de Cuba where three girlfriends and I were adopted by this wonderful ancient couple (easily 85!) and taught to Salsa whilst their daughter kept an eye on the local boys and swatted away their advances! Just brilliant.

I arrived at her house today to find it full of life: a niece with husband and two small children, two dogs, a cat and a parrot (how the two coexist seems a mystery at present but I'm guessing the cat is well fed or the parrot's talons are sharpened).  It promises to be a busy household and I am looking forward to getting to know the family.  The only unwelcome inhabitants I have come across so far are the sandflies, they seem to be in their bazillions, which doesn't bode well for my avoiding leishmaniasis. Slightly over enthusiastic spraying of deet has commenced: I aim for complete eradication by the time night falls.

By nightfall also I will have sat my Spanish test (amusing for an onlooker I am sure, for the testee I feel it will be a sweatbox of confusion). The aim of which of course is to place me in the correct class... which is without doubt 'beginner' plus or minus a few points for wild gesticulation, giggling, excellent mastery of a phrasebook and international sign language. All of which will keep me in good stead over the coming weeks I am sure.

As for now I am going to wander into town and find an Internet cafe to ping this off to you all

With a stethoscope in one hand and a rucsac in the other

Hello all! And welcome to my blog. Take a seat, get comfortable and come exploring.. 

As most of you know, and as an introduction to those who don't, I'm heading off to work as a volunteer doctor for a fantastic charity called 'Floating Doctors' in the depths of rural Panama. They have an information packed website under the same name if you fancy taking a closer look. The basic idea is provision of joined up sustainable health care and education to the rural, mostly tribal, people of the Bocas del Toro region. This, in reality, involves a lot of time and effort working with the local Elders, shouldering backpacks, filling up boats with kit and heading out to extremely rural hilly coastal rainforest to provide outreach clinics for those who can't get to the static ones. I imagine there will be many muddy boots, river crossings, moments of improvisation, moments of desperation, tears of frustration and tears of joy.  But most importantly there will people. People who don't even have the very rudimentary basics of modern western healthcare. (At this point I think it's important to point out that I'm under no illusion that dragging these people into a Western environment or life is in any way better than their own, but dying from simple treatable diseases in this day and age just because your country hasn't developed an accessible enough health system seems tragic and unnecessary). 

As I head off into the unknown I hope to take you with me and offer you a glimpse of the world through my eyes: stethoscope in one hand, rucsac in the other.