We left the hubub of Panama City for a quieter spot on the Atlantic Coast, a small fishing village called Santa Catalina. The change couldn't have been more marked - there being only one road in Santa Catalina, with two restaurants and no electricity for an entire day (apparently revenge against the inhabitants who had just voted out the local government!) Everything was so quiet and calm, cars being unheard of, instead horses all tied up outside the local pub. The local teenagers hung out by the coconut tree, guys impressing girls with how many they could knock down (or possibly how many gringoes they could hit), and the men had absolutely no qualms about pissing in the middle of the street... probably with the same incentives in mind!

So later that evening we stumbled up a puddle filled dirt track guided by torchlight in search of food, and happened upon a cute little candle lit restaurant, run by a spanish woman (cook) and her five year old son (waiter). She whipped us up some amazing food in the pitch black, and we sat there all night entertained by two tiny puppies bounding about and the sounds of crickets chirping away, struck by the thought that sometimes electricity is simply overrated.

The next day we hired some boards and went surfing at an awesome beach break nearby, the waves were perfect for our lack of skillage. However, the beach itself was less than to be desired... dirty sand, rubbish everywhere, and a strange toxic yellow froth building up in the sea over the course of the day. Jack was less than impressed with the smell of it all, so we decided to head off the next day for fresh mountain air. Oh and ok electrity too!! Turns out rural charms lasts for approximatly 12 hours before the need for a shower kicks in.