Feb 25 2013 A sailing between the islands of San Blas

• SAN BLAS cut

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  "Finally you have arrived", said, before taking a sip of his beer, "We were expecting". Everyone turned to look at us there. For days that a group of travelers waiting for us to complete the passage that would lead us to Cartagena de Indias on a sailboat.

In a bar with no doors in the city of Portobelo locate Marco. He was a retired Canadian in that corner of Panama. He had a cynical smile, a drink in hand and a soul sailor.

"Finally you have arrived", said, before taking a sip of his beer, "We were expecting". Everyone turned to look at us there. For days that a group of travelers waiting for us to complete the passage that would lead us to Cartagena de Indias on a sailboat: an American wanderer, a Canadian retired, a couple of young French, wanting a Catalan adventure, a French bohemian and assistant Marco, the only Panamanian group. Of months before habíamos located Marco, boat captain, and reserve a place to travel to Colombia, but as in the Caribbean things work slowly, there was no fixed date for starting. We would leave when the group was complete and arrived Protobelo each from a different part of America. The other eight passengers met every night waiting for the Spanish who were going around the world and as we were the last, us more waiting. That night they ran out of beer, because there is nothing more exciting than celebrating the threshold of adventure.

That night they ran out of beer, because there is nothing more exciting than celebrating the threshold of adventure.

Late-night, twelve we boarded the Alsa Craig, a vessel, eleven meters long, I felt like small for so many people. I soon realized that we were going to sail into the cabin of the Marx Brothers, but cabin. Everyone tried to get used to the waves, as we left the coast of Panama. The music and the wind made us feel free. We stopped several times to throw the sea and refresh the spirit. Other, as the captain himself, preferred beer cool the spirit.

At sunset we reach the first islands of San Blas. Came to meet some women of the Kuna that deftly paddled their canoes close. They wore orange robes and flowery, yellow scarves and a very thin bracelets that covered his forearms and toes. They came to sell cloths embroidered with green and red birds, colorful bangles and huge conch to hear the sound of that azure sea.

We stopped several times to throw the sea and refresh the spirit. Other, as the captain himself, preferred beer cool the spirit.

Anchored boat ran out and just hoped dizziness and Caribbean stillness before sleep. The rumble of thunder heralded no breezes and soon began to pour on the sailboat. The storm was becoming stronger and canvas that covered us soon stopped being a shelter realistic. We spent the first night, huddled on deck, rendered to rain.

Someone made coffee, the sun had risen and pelicans flew over the islands. Despite the previous night, everyone was in a good mood. The Kuna arranged several canoes to accelerate our entry into the island Nalunega. The canoe ride, the entry into the town, wooden huts and palm leaves, huge plants growing everywhere, indigenous greetings. They were as theatrical situations that came to seem fake, from the characters dressed in a kind of perpetual carnival until he decorated orchard, but it was real. I heard the women sing as they cooked and amused myself chatting with some families who washed the fish. Children ran through the village and they gave us the best displays of enthusiasm. However there were two words that had just tarnishing both those scenes repeated: “one dollar”. And I showed a cloth or a shell or a musical instrument. "One dollar" means that tourism is already installed, we arrived late if we wanted to find among the canoes virgin society, pure. Then I realized, Nalunega call that island does have some decorated.

"One dollar" means that tourism is already installed, we arrived late if we wanted to find among the canoes virgin society, pure.

It was much more evident when we called for a new council of elders. We recorded on the island, we had seen and felt challenged their authority. In one of the village huts, lying on a hammock listening to the oldest of the community without saying a word. We try to explain our intentions, we refer our contacts, tell them, pray nothing les .... If you want to record you have to pay a lot of "one dollar". We left the hut resigned and turned off the camera.

The rest of the afternoon was devoted to the enjoyment of the place. We played a game of basketball with locals, plunge saw some crabs seekers and chatted with a teacher happy to talk about the history of the Kuna, the oldest inhabitants of Panama, which of course suffered-emphasized the lecturer- the cultural onslaught our fellow Spanish. As the evening progressed we were running the island.

Framework proposed landing a few beers at one of the beaches Nalunega. It also landed him rum and national chants began this Tower of Babel that reached the island on a sailboat. It was dark when we returned to the boat in a rubber raft. The captain was very drunk and did not remember where it was docked the Ailsa Craig. He began to get nervous and sobbed "I have stolen the boat!"The American, I had visited the islands before, was geared better and started a discussion on the water to figure out where our boat was. The place was full of reefs and rubber raft was in grave danger if gone astray the way. One way or another we got on board the ship. The next day would continue our way.

He began to get nervous and sobbed "I have stolen the boat!”

No one took into account the captain that little oversight and no one reproached him at one point decided to organize shifts to take the helm. Yes, he also had the right to enjoy so we all became sailors and collaborate during the voyage relevándonos every two hours at the helm.

The music and beer, which proved to be the most precious cargo on board, glad a journey where they spent a few things. When wind was causing some candles desplegábamos, but never noticed that help her go faster. The times we stopped to swim were the best. There, alone, with nothing more than a three-sixty horizon… without islands with palm trees.

At some point that afternoon Alfonso, our camera, spotted something in the ocean. We turned to port to closer to a group of orcas black. For a while we joined with parsimony, then, without, disappeared under the waters.

Almost everyone slept that last night. The younger French had taken the controls. Then I heard Marco embarrassed and yelling up: "Care, comes a front boat!”. The Frenchman replied calmly: "Not a ship, captain, is the radiance of the city ". I sat up to watch the first lights of South America.