Jammin pizza and the World Champs of Insulin (WCI)

A full on Catalina establishment, Jammin Pizza worked hard for its money. Epic wood fired pizzas, couple magnums of Chilean red wine and we were good to settle in.

But it seems its pretty tough to have a good wholesome fun these days, without things escalating. We got back to the surf camp, had a few beers and Taylor posed to question to Ricky, “what would happen if we had some of your insulin” to which Ricky replied, “my mates always ask me, but no-ones ever tried. Welcome to the 2010 World Championships of Insulin in Santa Catalina. We went straight to the final to see Taylor from Australia battle it out with John from Canada, who could get to 105 units first (the normal dosage for a diabetic is 12 units). During the heated contest, blood sugar levels were monitored closely, oranges, ice-cream and coconuts were on hand regulate blood sugar. With injections ranging from 15-30 units, I posed the question “Guys, this may or may not be safe”. But in the spirit of patriotism, the contest went on. Both contestants dropped below 4 on their blood sugar level (not at all stable) before the final round. With a big effort by Taylor, taking in a massive 50 units at once, it was all over and Australia has won the world championship. The customary feast of oranges, bread and ice-cream proceeded the final ward off any chance of a hypo. The contestants shook hands. And we went to bed. Taylor had a hypo anyway. What did we learn out of this little experiment? If non-diabetics take more that 10 times the normal dosage of insulin in a short space of time, they’ll find their way to the freezer looking for ice-cream.

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La Punta afternoon perspective

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Fingers in Santa Catalina

So Raf got his ear pierced. It wasn’t totally a spur of the moment decision. Even though he exceeded his RDI of cervezas, a major driver of the stud in his right lobe was the fact that his bloodline can be tracked back to pirates.

 

Things began in the afternoon when Captain Rack Sparrow and his first mate Big Shoulders Lawrence ducked into town to collect 1 red emperor, 12 red snappers, a array of vegies, a wheel barrow of cervezas and a couple bottles of rum. A feast was about to be prepared. A few lads got on the grill, a few lads prepared the salad, the girls... didn’t do anything, but dinner was served.

Post feast and knee deep in beers, the finger game was introduced. Its an extremely social game, getting players and the crowd amped up and super hammered. It also has the potential to get out of hand - something I learned at my last job at TBWA...

As things were heading like they were about to get out of hand, Raf had come to the realisation that he needed to follow the footsteps of his ancestors. Calling on Qualified Keil to perform to operation, the surgical team prepped:

1 safety pin for piercing
1 lighter for sterilisation
Ice to numb the lobe
1 mango to sit behind the ear as support

We soon realised that Qualified Keil did not possess what was needed for the procedure. So Unqualified Keil was fired. In comes Sterile Scotty who in a frenzy raised the pin high into the air, charging it through Raf’s ear lobe, into the mango. Raf calmly requested the earring, and before you know it Captain Rack Sparrow was on his feet drinking rum from the bottle.

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Up early down late

With limited sleep and a sore head, I was damn impressed by the way we collected ourselves at 6am to get waves at La Punta. Scored it glassy, uncrowded and 3-4ft - well worth the effort. As initial hype began to wear off after 2 hours, the thought of Yann’s chocolate breakfast crepes made their way into my head and it was time to bail.

Post breakie, we went in search of Punta Brava - apparently a pretty rad right reef over the next headland. With vague instructions on how to get there from a few different people,  of us mobilised on foot east. Upon arriving all we saw was a mess breaking on a rock platform, but potential around the next corner... maybe Punta Brava was around there. With the sand disappearing and only the sharpest rocks of all time to walk on (and no shoes) the was a surprising amount of enthusiasm from the lads to keep trucking and find the wave. 40 mins later, 4 more next corners and super sore feet, we realised we messed up bigtime - Punta Brava was the first reef. Shit. Massive deflated walk home. The consolation prize was a mushy 3ft El Estero out the front of our place. By that point we just needed to get into the water before heat exhaustion set in.

 

The afternoon activities were split, half the crew went to a local bar in town to get loose, and a few of us joined Yann at La Punta - great sacrifice for not drinking, 4ft glassy walls for about an hour. Then the afternoon storm set in which rivaled a cyclone, tearing Santa Catalina apart for 3 hours. Battling the storm, the rest of the crew arrives back to th e surf camp looking like wet dogs carrying 150 Balboa cervezas, prepping for the nights events.

 

A few solid drinking games then Julio got up for a DJ session. By this point there was about 20 of us - our crew, a bunch of Americans and there owners family. Then out of nowhere Yann brought out about 10 masks and things really stepped up. Notable mention goes to Keil and his girl for the night Jenny. Deciding they would get to know each other on the top bunk above where Jonny was passed out didn’t go down too well. The supports collapsed and Jonny woke to 2 adults, a mattress and a heap of wood crashing down on top of him.

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Getting busy

Waking up pretty ordinary, a surf at Playa El Estero was on the cards. Raf had dumped about 6 red Berocca’s into a litre bottle of water which was perfect for my headspace. I went off to grab some boardies, and came back with a craving for Berocca. The bottle seemed to have been moved to next to a water cooler so I took hold and had another massive drink. Shock fucking horror. Turned out to be a different water bottle filled with a red cleaning agent - too late for me I’d swallowed it all. Feeling dazed I drank a heap of water to try dilute it, but felt okay to walk to the surf. 15 minutes though the walk with Dan, Ricky and Jimmy, I started loosing my shit, violent throw ups, spinning head... Thought I was going to die, I was pretty cut. Nearly at El Estero, we looked behind and Ricky was having hypo, ready to kiel over to - needing sugar bigtime! We made it to Surfpoint Surf Camp, where French owner Yann rounded up oranges and water for us dead men walking. After a bit of rest, we got our bundles together and got out for waves. Stoked on the coolest French guy ever, and the awesome set up of the surf camp, we came back and sorted enough room for 11 of us to stay for 5 days.

Surfed a sweet session at La Punta (Catalina Point) about 4ft in the arv, then back to Surfpoint for a family dinner - guests included Tony Montana the 8kg Red Emperor and another 121 beers.

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Hauling 10 to Santa Catalina

Getting 10 of us to Santa Catalina was a solid mission, but with the cyclonic conditions, it was by far the best day to travel. From Panama you need to get the bus from the Albrook terminal to Sona, then Sona to Sta Catalina. All up the trip is about 7 hours.

 

The aircon was cold as hell on the bus, so our Mageiver influence had us remove the curtains for warmth as make shift blankets. Getting to Sona we, ran into another Aussie Dan, who jumped on board the crew Sta Catalina. Apart from a connecting bus and a corner store, there isn’t anything in Sona.

We bunked down at local surfer Rollo’s cabins for $10 each, which was a cool little place. A few seppo girls at Rollo’s were keen for a bit of a party, so who were we to deny. Feeling as through the massive bus trip was an accomplishment, we treated ourselves to whole fried fish and chips for $3 each and 121 $0.70 beers.

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By day by night

Panama City by day (took this pic the morning we left Panama City - not the most appealing shot in the torrential rain)

Panama City by night

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And the dealer is forked

Dan vs Ricky for the most forking of a dealer

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It’s best if I never leave room 7 - Ricky Geltch

Luna’s Castle is a full on maddhouse. Making our way to Casca Veijo, we arrived hearing and reading stories about the place, but had no idea until we set in. For $13 a night we were presented with: Free breakie, a movie theater, $1 beers upstairs, free wi fi, beer garden connected to the Relic Bar (public bar that serves 50c beers and $1 spirits in happy hour) and keys to our beds in Room 7...

 

We joined forces with a pretty solid Aussie crew, where we turned Luna’s Castle into Luna’s Circus for about 3 days. Thursday, Friday, Saturday we turned things up, enforcing an Aussie influence on the rest of the Hostel.

Things really escalated up on Saturday. Hitting the beers most of the day, we rounded up the troops to Room 7 late in the afternoon to get right down to business. A few hours of getting full on, and a session of beer bongs at happy hour, about 10 of us followed a few local girls lead to a local club ‘The Loft’. Definitely out of place, but too loose to care, we hit the DF hard, using smooth Spanish compliments and ripping dance moves to try our hand at possies of local chickas. Some had luck, some got served, but eventually the gringo domination of the club cleared out about half the locals, leaving us to dominate. Last at the club, Ricky and I eventually made it back to Luna’s with a couple of Irish girls from the hostel, telling us about their first encounter with Ricky, Room 7 and a conversational lover - funniest shit ever...

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Panama Canal

A trip to the Canal is a must for any trip to Panama City. Its a textbook tourist mission, but once there, you’re amazed by the scale of this engineering structure. We took a $6 cab ride from Luna’s Castle to the the Midaflores locks, and $8 for the full tour. We got there just in time for a massive oil tanker the ‘Asopos’ to pass through the locks.

The tanker enters the lock, pulled by 4 guides on a track. Once gate 1 is closed, water fills the lower chamber making the tanker rise. The ship continues to rise until the water level in the upper and lower chambers are at the same level, which at the point gate 2 to opens.

Once open the tanker passes through into the upper chamber, this process happens again - however the upper chamber water level must now rise to the same level as the rest of the  Canal. The tanker passes through gate 3 then progresses on north through the Canal. The whole process takes about 30mins. Chatting to a local lad who priced this tankers movement through the Midaflores locks at $300k. The locks operate 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Generating around $4 million a day at Midaflores alone, you begin to realise the massive potential of this developing nation.

 

An expansion project of Midaflores locks has recently begun west of the current locks. The focus is to ease pressure on the current locks, get bigger ships through and in turn more money for Panama. The project is costed at $5 billion over 7 years.

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Tricked up transport system

These bad boys are the public bus system - decked out with rad paintings, rims, air-horns, disco lights and a massive sound system. For 25 cents you can pimp to most places in the city.

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The money coming in

There’s an absolute truck load of money coming into Panama City. We we’re so surprised how new the city is, not to mention that about half of the buildings and skyscrapers are under construction. We initially thought this was a huge US investment, similar to Costa Rica, but found out from an ex-pat engineer that the majority of construction comes from Columbian and Iranian money. The country has some big plans for tourism (as we discovered from Jenny our Tourism Commission hook up) and has begun a new expansion project on their main source of revenue - the Canal. Seems as if Panama has some big plans for the years to come and they definitely have the financial backing to make it happen.

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Panama Viejo

The ruins of the original Panama City. Its the oldest European city on the Pacific coast of the Americas founded by the Spanish in 1519. For about 150 years this city was the epicenter of the Pacific, a gateway for gold in Peru and a major trading post for East Asia. In 1671, a bad arse Welsh pirate by the name of Henry Morgan took hold of the city, taking its booty, riches and foreign goods, then reducing Panama Viejo to rubble. Although some pretty amazing history can be told through the stones, the ruins now lie within a full on ghetto. Big contrast from the wealth of once, to the weather board shacks of today.

 

 

The Panama Viejo Cathedral

 

North view of the city

The Jesuit Convent aka nun city

Map of the old city

 

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Not caring at Panama City

Not caring at the Panama Viejo Cathedral

Not caring at the Panama Canal

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Panama City circles

After a long flight with stop overs in Atlanta and Ft Lauderdale, we finally made it to Panama City (not to be confused with Panama City Florida) at 1.30am. Thanks to our streetsmarts aka Lonely Planet we had free airport transfers to Hotel Marparaiso - only slightly more than a hostel, it saved us being stuck in a Spanish speaking airport in the early hours with our limited Espanol.

 

Wanting to get amongst it early, we smashed through our free Continental breakfast (2 bread rolls, coffee and an orange juice) and set off for a trek around the city coastal path. Needing a map to maximise the day, we focused our journey on finding the IPAT or Panamanian Tourist Info Centre. After getting lost through the heavy part of the city and suffering under the 32 degree heat, we stumbled upon the Mercado de Mariscos (seafood markets) Shit yeah.

In the restaurant $12 got us a 2 whole fish and rice - pretty damn awesome. Downstairs in the markets, huge pargo (red snapper) to Corvina (sea bass) were on sale for $2-3 pound. King prawns 20cm long for $5. Giant Caribbean centolla (crab) for $5 a pound. If you’re stoked on certain produce downstairs, you can buy and take it upstairs to the restaurant to cook for a little extra. Over lunch we needed to re-group. We needed to get to the tourist info centre and a spanish school while seeing the interior of the city. Jimmy had a basic map, so we put it to use and set off for round 2.

Something we learned on day 1 was Panamanian's have a pretty unique way of giving directions. This was both to our advantage and disadvantage - we got shit lost, but walked through the majority of the interior city and by the end of the day have most of the streets wired. Panamanian’s don’t use maps or use street names to base their knowledge of their city. If we wanted to get to Gran Morison Shopping Centre, the local would direct us by the major street (Ave Espania) the shop on the corner (Nike Store) then use shops as location pins (Sony Store, then Grocery Store, use the overpass, then left past the 2nd hand electronic store. Locals have limited knowledge of streets (calles) as most of them aren’t marked anyway.

Took us a couple of hours to find what we through was the Tourist Info Centre, but on the 6th floor of an office building turned our to be Autoridad de Tourismo Panama (Panama Tourist Authority). Arriving at reception and using our western innocence on a quest for a map, we were shown through the Tourist Authority office to the desk of Jenny .... - Regional Coordinator of the Panama Tourism Authority. Strangely excited to meet us, Jenny unloaded a wealth of knowledge and list of personal contacts around the whole country. Also gave us the inside word that Panama secured a WCT Surfing event in 2011 at Sanata Catalina, and gave us the contact of a local event organiser. After exchanging emails and cell phone numbers (frothing) we set off for round 3. Find a spanish school.

 

More getting lost (at one point we found our way wandering the halls of universidad internacional (International University) collecting smiles from the local chickas and more getting the city totally wired, we eventually found the spanish school in a street banging with bars and restaurants. Getting a few prices and assuring the chicka we’ll get back to her, we hit some more beers and got back to the aircon of the Marparaiso.

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Have you seen my baseball?

We hit up Thirsty Thursday's at the baseball to see the Myrtle Beach Pelicans lock horns with the Indy Indians. But... there was no locking of the horns - it had been nearly 10 years since I played baseball and I'd forgotten how boring the game is. However we didn't really go to the game to see baseball, it was $1 beers that offered the most entertainment. Maxing out on Bud Light early on was the gameplan, which wasn't great for the self esteem of either team in the left outfield.

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4th of July full of frothers

4th of July at the John's Guard House. Various elements worked together to most effectively celebrate freedom - high octane shots, ice out raging bulls, a pig on a pit, a couple of kegs and a bunch of little frothers!

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