Now if, in Cartagena de Indias was where would it find a way to read and reread many times when he was planning the trip for a while now, it was time to do it myself: crossing to Panama. Now, let's get one thing before moving on, doing this is actually very easy as long as they give a couple of conditions, namely: First, have enough money to not just economically inconvenient and, second, do not have a bike (or any other motor vehicle) on his back which also have to cross. Actually one thing makes the other, if we have the cash no matter whether you have to cross with a motorcycle or a motor home, twine ultimately brings the world to ride, the ticket any gears oiled. As I was saying, as in my case did not give any of the two premises I mentioned, things are complicated, and pretty. I started to go the yacht club and fishing club, where boats usually go to Puerto Colon. Then the prices that outweigh me pull me over, not in my possibilities nor in what seems reasonable to pay me what I asked. Compulsorily dismissed this option, look at the other ports, from where boats merchant, these boats do not inspire me any confidence, seemed to disarm just look at hard.
The days I was in Cartagena I installed in the Fire Station, as it had in Buga a month ago, the location and the good mood of the place was the best option, I end being about five days, step resolved some labor issues would help me a lot financially to what is coming. The walled city, which had a beautiful view from the barracks, I could go to several sometimes very first hour of the day, when there is nobody on the streets, it really is a privilege to do this, walk alone in its streets, feel the history that is wasted here. Late in the morning things change a little, the hustle, the same as any other tourist town flooded the streets, the experience becomes another, very different.
But imponderables arise ...
I left Cartagena with the idea of \u200b\u200bgetting a Turbo in the day, or at least to snuggle up, without a map, much less at this point the GPS was only noted on a slip of paper on which people had to spend to not deviate and ending who knows where. As will be imagined and as much as I strive to avoid it at one point she pifie the road and into a police checkpoint (as there are in all Colombian routes) I realized that I was wandering. This was not bad, were not more than fifteen minutes I'd have to go back, what was that really fulero retracing my steps I put on a truck from behind, that quite asshole (will excuse the expression) had stopped on the road emerging from a curve, the thirty or forty yards that separated the mule output of this curve is not enough to get me to stop completely, the shoulder was not an option, much less spend the other hand, finally, ending sung. It's very funny how in that last second before you hit (or fall in previous cases) I have time to think about a lot of things, and do not talk about spending my life as a movie, nothing like that, I mean I get to think and decide what to do to shock or drop is least disruptive as possible, ie which should not be able to analyze the shoulder, not the other road, to all this my four members did their best to stop the bike (brakes, clutch and changes) as well as thought and settle down to hit as little as possible in that she knew was inevitable. The result: broken fender, front wheel "abananada, broken mirrors, steering wheel on the edge of the break (this time for both sides), broken headlight and front shock absorbers were not playing well. As for me, some scratches and a little pain in the leg. Luckily (not always because I have a little luck) the whole issue was before a little house (the only one who had for many miles), I kept the bike while wearing a fix the wheel, I knew I did not learn more in Buenos Aires, to focus the rim and while he had a basic idea, I encourage to do it myself, had been badly distorted. In all this fuck I was several hours and a few bucks. Still cursing the trucker went back to the road, would hopefully Montería before quitting time. Actually reaches almost falling dusk. Fire again. At this point all I wanted was to be in turbo and try to solve the crossing as soon as possible. The next day, sunrise and tourer routine breakfast: tea, biscuits and some fruit. Four hours and a very bad state road separating me from that port.
From what we mean to cross into Panama?
I can say about Turbo?, Marcelo (motochileros) had warned me that it was a rather ugly, typical port, typical point of departure, place of passage, unbearable heat, dirt where you look, the port has not to envy the stream Buenos Aires (Buenos Aires.). Just get started to walk around where they stop the boats leaving for Panama and the last towns in Colombia. Those who come to San Blas were all on the road, take several days to get back and a good amount out again, there are only that at most reach or Zapsurro Capurganá. Then I sync with the master of Sin Fronteras, Libardo, which tells me that he wait until the next day to tell me if you can load the bike, is expecting a load of merchandise, he says he is ready to work, good data. 
Another thing Marc had told me was that I could stop the fire if necessary, there I was. There was almost no place to even put up our tent. The next day, and after analyzing a lot of crossover opportunities, including direct ship to deliver it in Columbus and get into the trail that leaves Acandí (Colombia) to Yaviza (Panama), I confess that it thought it would last, the issue of this second option is that you get through the mountains that are the mountainous jungle of Darien, the worst of this path no matter how difficult the stretch in the field are dangers in this area are indeed certain, paramilitary right-wing groups ... well, not very friendly people to say. While in turbo came to offer me take this road for $ 150 (started asking 400) when I told them I was with the Rojita were sincere and told me the bike move around is impossible.
the Pan American Highway, which links southern Argentina Alaska, is cut to get to northern Colombia to start again in Yaviza, Panama, reportedly the most important reasons are related to environmental issues and preservation of ecosystems, it sounds logical ... until right there. On the other hand there is the issue of drug trafficking, could talk a long time talking about it, the political and economic interests on the control of drug trafficking into the United States is much stronger than any environmental issue and we know that the underground is always better business, which is much better to have the way "cut off" (just business) that open and as you said Calle 13 "share the candy from the piñata." I will not expand much on this issue, all roads always lead to political corruption.
Turbo The second day I was pulling me to swim across, I wanted to go as soon as the situation was very stressful, here and there, by calling some contacts that I had passed and others finding out I was right there, figuring, Chamuyando, pulling lines, all while the sun is to burn any living being is put under its rays. Libardo I confirm that I had the bike for only $ 25 a goal. Slightly faster than did the output process through customs and take the Rojita to Sin Fronteras, I still had to change money into dollars Colombian calculating what still had to spend and do not stay with Colombian pesos to go to Panama. It was Friday, I promised the bike would be in Capurganá on Sunday afternoon, not bad. I confess that cost me much to part with the Rojita, after so many months where you hardly take your eyes off, we became one, quite literally, did everything possible so that we cross together, but the output is quite controlled Turbo (at least merchant ships), not allowed foreign passengers on board the crew of these ships, for a moment, Libardo, realizing that nothing I did not like parting of the bike, I said that effort would take me too. Still, I am inspired enough confidence as I realized that to avoid problems it would be best to leave aside.
early Saturday I take that kind of group are aquatic pangas, took about 4 hours, get everything wet, luckily the bag and the guitar arrived safely.
The emerging landscape Caráquez Bay (Turbo) is striking, the Caribbean on one side and the impenetrable mountains of Darien to the other while the water color change is constant, I lost count a while, but I estimate which have been about 6 or 7 very different colors from black oiled port to an emerald green, through all kinds of brown and blue.
Waiting The Rojita.
In Capurganá frankly is not much to do, in my case just hope that comes with the Rojita Libardo aboard Without Borders. In this village, the light comes at 9 am, cut from 8 to 10 pm and after 2 am again. Meanwhile the best power cut is going to lie belly up in the sand. Assemble a small field tent near the beach and sat down to wait, guitar in front of the sea, and spent hours in my last Colombian people.
Meanwhile, to save time and start negotiating price started talking to boaters to see if it could and it cost me to take the Rojita Puerto Obaldia, where would have to Customs and Immigration of the Panamanian side and I had spoken pests.
Sunday appeared, from afar, Libardo the Sin Fronteras, and with the bike and had almost settled on land transport to the Panamanian side, but only for Monday. I
migration out, spend the last Colombian pesos in some supplies for the coming days, we must bear in mind that these are all quite distant villages and isolated, and often get something as basic as bread or crackers is all but more complicated and given that I did not know when he would get out of the next port and much less even though it was to be on the side road again Panama. Upload
Capurganá the bike was not exactly the best time I spent in this last time, the sea quite rough, the difference in level between the battered wooden pier and minilancha with something more than luck would get me Obaldía, the same weight of the bike and all the baggage ... well, at times imagined Rojita lost in the sea floor. They were the longest minutes at least, this trip. The stretch-Puerto Obaldía Capurganá takes no more than half an hour in running through the beaches of Zapsurro and Honey, paradise itself, water color, transparency that reveals the background perfectly, the color of sand, palm trees ...
Unfortunately I could not stay there, my place of descent was quite different to this. Puerto Obaldía is basically a military base, a small town around, little or nothing to do, luckily there was Internet (expensive) and I could connect a while to notice that for the time came all right. For just a few minutes I was a ship that went to Columbus, I came to ten, but I was not the time to do all the rigmarole and load the bike, a shame. I had to camp a night there, I no longer stand in Capurganá I had not been able to bathe, no water, here less, bathroom was not even available, I summon up patience and wait another day to see if the ship was anchored at the dock out.
Subi you wear.
Indeed
King Emmanuel, merchant ship from Port Obaldía and covers the entire area of \u200b\u200bthe islands of San Blas, had date and time of departure for that day so The Rojita and I did approach, I was told would take about four or five days (which were eventually six) to get to Miramar, a small town 
to port before Portobelo and from which could go by road.
Emmanuel King is touring the islands inhabited by the Kuna Yala community, originally from these places, keep their language, customs, one might even say that their own laws. Clear that despite this is also invaded by coca-cola, direct tv, mobile telephony and of course the slave dollar.
In one of these islands, as I wandered the aisles, stand in a house to buy something to drink, I expected something like a milkshake, not, some fruit, something that has to do with where we were a handwritten placard announcing "Sodas to 0.50", asked one. I brought a bottle of cola, it seemed a little ridiculous situation, was on an island in the Caribbean Sea where you can easily feel like 200 or 300 years ago and I taking a pep ... there is, in these islands, where you can clearly see American Indian features like few places, typical clothes, its own dialect and where you live in the most precarious (in our eyes) and with the basics, TV, beer, soda and phone cell are not lacking in any home. I came to my mind something I had felt for some months in Bolivia and Peru also moments, ie, that it's all about? Poverty? Culture? Lack of culture? Devastation of their culture in complicity with those affected? It is strange to see things as extreme and dissonant as are some of the things I mentioned (reed huts and sand floor houses a luxurious 29-inch TV), I think the mirrors colors are still the ticket for globalization and consumerism, the disastrous U.S. culture continues to rage in the few communities that still retain some of their culture alive.
back to the merchant ships, to give you an idea, in this area are boats about 12 meters long by 4 wide, ranging 
leaving merchandise, food and some collect coconuts and bananas leading to Cartagena, Turbo, Barranquilla and Covenas these, Colombian ports.
Every evening anchored in an island Kuna overnight to continue browsing the other day first thing. The Emanuel King crew, like many other merchants that do the same route, is formed by: the boat owner, captain, a cook, a mechanic, three assistants and in this case, the Rojita and me. Spend six days of service for full Caribbean Sea, pure rice, beans, sardines, bananas and fried fish. When I say "pure ..." is literal, breakfast, lunch and dinner was exactly the same menu. While watching the sea and some 365 islands overloaded with coconuts, white sand and turquoise waters, the occasional dolphin every now and then appeared to us and accompanied us for several minutes. I think that whatever cost and I had the days before trying to find a way to cross is amply rewarded browsing.
The last day before reaching the immigration control of the island of El Porvenir, we ran into a storm that was at times quite uncomfortable and tense journey, interesting experience yes, but at that point of the trip (by boat ) I just wanted to finally return to the mainland. We
late afternoon to the Port of Miramar, the sky threatened rain and the town offered very little or would say anything fairer. Again we passed through immigration control, the bike went down to the dock ... and now if the feeling of having gone from being on the other hand, have achieved something less complicated, a kind of satisfaction mixed with uncertainty, with a whole new journey ahead, with much to do, see, live and with very little in my pocket ... well, the issue of money will now happen to be central But that and some other things but you count them in the next entry.
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