Jan 6, 2020
Some kind of festival seemed to be taking place in the main plaza when Antonia and I stepped off the bus. Micky and Minnie mouse cavorted on the makeshift stage to nursery rhymes screeching through loudspeakers. Their antics were watched with rapt attention by both adults and children alike. Most were people from surrounding villages, in their traditional dresses, no doubt out in force for the festival. Men dressed in robotic costumes mingled among the crowd, in high demand for photo ops. The tiniest ponies I have ever seen trot the street with equally tiny riders.
I have fond memories of Boquete and Antonia and I had planned to spend a couple of days here, more to chat and catch up than anything else. A hike along one of the many trails seemed the obvious thing to do. The easy trail went through the forest leading gently uphill.
A couple of bridges, a few small creeks and mostly twittering from unseen birds. What seemed like black lumps perched high on the tree branches turned out to be howler monkeys. Some moved through the branches lazily while others watched us as carefully as we watched them.
But alas! No sloths did we see nor a single feather of the quetzal that are supposed to inhabit this area. Oh well. Maybe on another hike in another forest I might catch a glimpse of this fabulously colored bird.