By Meredith Wright
The time had come for my girlfriends and I to get locas in Bocas. My job as an English teacher in Costa Rica was beginning to get stale so I was grateful when Easter holiday came along. After hearing about the famed region of Bocas del Toro, Panama from my co-workers I left the dusty streets of San Jose behind and headed for what was raved to be a tropical utopia.

After a cramped bus ride, my friends and I arrive at the Panama border. The one obstacle between us and paradise is the infamous bridge. “Mind your step” is a laughable understatement, that is, laughable if I wasn’t sweating fear droplets. “Don’t look down” is not an option and the pale green water below is anything but inviting. All my attention must be paid to make sure my shaky flip-flop makes contact with the wooden planks generously spaced out before me. Just as I contemplate how this bridge is remotely safe for human crossing, a truck comes barrelling past. I close my eyes and scream inwardly. Soon I reach the other side, starting to rely on the ground beneath my feet again. Paradise here I come.

With the border behind us, we negotiate a water taxi to take us to our hostel’s island by the pleasant Red Frog Beach in Bocas Del Toro, Panama. I welcome the breeze hitting the boat and am mesmerized by the water spraying up like crystals in the sunlight. Our destination is Bocas Bound, a new and modern hostel run by a young, energetic staff. Though the name of the hostel seems to suggest transit, we don’t plan on leaving any time soon. We are met with the sight of hostel dwellers lounging in the hammocks of the open dining hall. Nothing short of an oasis, palm trees and all, we are seduced by promises of sunset dolphin tours and discounted surf board rentals.

I love the nights in at the hostel dominating at ping pong after a late night beach bonfire as much as the nights out. The music playing on the main island reminds me of my beloved Montreal bars. I sip on dollar beers with my feet dipped in the water spotting starfish with my new surfer friends. Speaking of starfish, I spend another memorable day on a booze cruise to Star Fish Beach, aptly named since the gorgeous beach is littered with the sea creatures. We snorkel our hearts out and over- indulge on homemade jungle juice (a lethal vodka and pineapple concoction). English teachers abandon their distant life of grammar and pronunciation as they leap off the top floor of the boat into the clear water below. Though I’m trying to go easy on the jungle juice, this is paradise, so I make sure to drink it all in.