Monday morning I got an article in my inbox sent lovingly by
my mother, sent to her by someone who knew I live in Panama. I like that,
finding common connections, thanks Mom and thanks person who sent this to her
while thinking of me. In the article, published in “Travel + Leisure: Best
Places to Travel in 2016,” Here’s what it says:
“The Isthmus of Panama is home to some of the purest natural
beauty in Latin
America: dense tropical rain forests, wide savannas, coral reefs
bursting with aquatic life, and delightfully deserted beaches. The latest
idyllic spot to emerge on travelers’ lists is Bocas del Toro, an archipelago
made up of nine islands and hundreds of cays and islets. In the country’s
northeastern corner—a one-hour flight from either Panama City or San José,
Costa Rica—it’s a sanctuary where the main mode of transportation is a wooden
motorboat, dolphins swim through crystalline waters, and dockside restaurants
serve the local fishermen’s catch of the day. Its remoteness and simplicity
have made it a favorite among backpackers, surfers, and adventurers. Bocas
Town, the archipelago’s main village, is equal parts rickety and charming, with
tin-roofed wooden houses converted into colorful boutiques, guesthouses, and
restaurants—head to Ultimo Refugio for the best food in town, an open-air sport
famous for its lobster risotto and sesame-crusted tuna. And while Bocas isn’t
losing its ruggedness anytime soon, a new hotel is likely to redefine tourism
there. Sarani Resort,
scheduled to open this summer, will bring unprecedented style to the area. The
35 hardwood bungalows, on 75 acres, were designed with the quiet mood of a
Balinese resort in mind. There will be an infinity pool, an outdoor bar crafted
from old wooden boats, and a restaurant serving organic Caribbean food. “Bocas
evokes this sense of calm, Peter Debs, who is overseeing the development, says.
“You’re surrounded by untouched mangrove islets, you hear the slapping of the
waves, and see people catching lobsters from hand-carved canoes. I’m glad it
hasn’t become a Cancún. Here it’s all about the salt water and the forest.” —Paola Singer
Yes, this is
where I live and yes, it is as amazing as it sounds. But it’s not the travel
writing, romanticized view of paradise that you’re imagining from reading Paola’s
words. Just from reading this, I myself want
to hop on a plane and go in search of this whimsically magical set of glorious
islets that invokes a nostalgically beautiful emotion in me. I’d book a ticket
to that place. That’s some damn good travel writing. But that’s not what this Bocas
del Toro is.
There are
struggles here. People don’t necessarily like that they have to lobster catch
in a hand-dug canoe in the middle of the (often turbulent) ocean to appease the
dietary wants of seafood-seeking tourists. And the article disregards the boat drivers
who operate these seemingly effortless gliding “wooden motorboats” and pay an
arm and a leg for the upkeep when their motors break down with a frequency you
can only expect from an overused, under cared-for motor sitting in salt water
lugging tourists around from island to island. But they’re not complaining, we
aren’t complaining, I promise. Locals know they make money from tourists but they
don’t seem to understand why people come in search of this place specifically
because to them, it’s always ever been home.
Since when did
we, as tourists from the developed world, decide to eat up this idea of
“untouched mangrove islets” as the idea of a perfect vacation? Since when do we
feel okay ignoring the fact that in our search for an escape from our overly
busy and productive lives, we get to ignore the real struggles of locals who’ve
called the place home for hundreds of years. Because the article seems to
espouse or underscore the idea that in our search for this “untouched
paradise”, it’s okay to completely negate the fact that actual people have lived here, and that they have been touching the land for
thousands of years. (I recognize that this question could lead us down a rabbit
hold of manifest destiny, but we all know how that goes, so in this post I’ll
refrain from exploring that idea further). This is how I envision the
negotiation of building a resort on Isla Pastor went:
White Man With Money and Big Ideas: Peter, you’re back! How’d the surveying
trip down to Panama go?
Peter: Well, sir, it was great! We found this island, it’s tucked
enough away from the mainland so you don’t have to see the dirty port town neighbors
where locals shit over the water and put trash in the ocean. But it’s close
enough to the airport in Bocas Town so that locals will feel like their getting
the authentic remote experience when we pick them up with a coconut drink in
hand and then they still have to they
take a boat 15 minutes get to our resort. It’s deceptively remote, sir, just
like what you asked for (rubs chin
pensively with hand while looking longingly out the window).
WMWMABI: Great job Peter! Just make sure it evokes the idea of
serenity and tranquility that white people are going ape shit for these days.
Peter: I hear you sir, my only question is: there are a few local
communities right where we want to build. Does it matter if we have to knock
down hundreds of local dwellings to do what we want out there? Or that we’ll be
bringing in electricity to the island that hasn’t ever had it, thereby catapulting
them into the 21st century without providing education or other
incentives for our existence there?
WMWMABI: No, they’ll be fine. Oh and make sure the restaurant/bar
is made out of something local.
Peter: But sir, what if the only wood I can find is these canoes
that they paddle around on?
WMWMABI: Well, Peter, then buy that off them - white people eat
that “local” shit UP! Oh, let’s make sure we call the restaurant “organic” too.
Peter: Yes sir. Then I’ll call up Travel + Leisure so they can do
a piece about it. Paola owes me one still for that time she wrote a shitty
review of our Balinese Bungalows in rural Cambodia. She doesn’t even know how
much money that cost us.
WMWMABI: Great idea, now back to work.
It’s happened
before. It’ll happen again. Does this resort deserve a place in Bocas del Toro?
Sure. But I know this island and I’m not so sure the developers thought about
the locals they will be displacing, if not physically, at least in that they
will bring money to the island that locals have never seen or experienced
before. The community dynamics will change. Those locals who are not lucky
enough to find a position on their staff on construction, in the kitchen or as
cleaners will be relegated to bottom of the totem pole. I can assure you that
the communities in Isla Pastor had a system before this place was build and now
they will have to completely re-write that system. The local community on Isla
Pastor will stratify. I’ve seen the exact same story with the Red Frog Island
Resort on Bastimentos Island and a new $400/night ecolodge in the community of
Loma Partida.
That said, there
are many businesses here in the tourism industry that do hire and treat locals
fairly, providing a living wage and creating a solid way of life for so many
people here. Locals ride their bikes on “rugged” dirt roads to make it to work,
spend the day at these pristine resorts waiting on tourists who wash their
hands in the filtered rainwater taps and leave their shift in a hotel with hot
water and wifi to go home to a wooden shack without electricity or potable
water. And yet the words “rugged, pristine, hand-dug, organic” are somehow
appealing and palpable to travelers. Those words come on the backs of locals
who have had their lives uprooted for our “serenity.” Their struggle is our way
to relax. But those locals who aren’t on the inside of the tourism industry
really struggle. They watch their families separate because one child gets a
job on the main island and another has to bake bread in their community to sell
for twenty-five cents a bun. They have no electricity because no one has
decided that their community is “good enough” to develop. They see communities
across the bay reaping the benefits of benevolent enough tourists, but they
can’t break in.
I’m not saying
it isn’t wonderful place to visit or that we should give up our days of rest
and relaxation. What I am saying, however, is that in our exploration of “rest
and relaxation” we’ve come to prioritize places where we don’t have to think
about the lives of locals we interact (or don’t) with. We can enjoy our
“outdoor bar crafted from old wooden boats and a restaurant serving organic
Caribbean food” without truly appreciating why we needed to leave where we came
from. I hope we can come to see those “tin-roofed wooden houses converted into
colorful boutiques, guesthouses, and restaurants” as a place where real
people’s blood, sweat and tears have gone in to make your vacation world keep
spinning. The charm of this place comes from the unique people you find in those lobster boats, the drivers of the wooden hand-carved boats, the owners of these restaurants. The charm of this place doesn’t come
from a resort that has a “Bali style infinity pool” (though, that sure does
sound amazing!), yet rather from the people that makes this place unique. The
people we should honor as a resource and never a burden.
Nowhere is just
as perfect as it seems in Travel + Leisure, but Bocas sure comes close.
