As of now I'm currently on a key of islands off the coast of Panama. It's the most jungly, intense tropics I've ever been in. I'll write more about it later. Getting out to these islands is a story in itself...
Two months ago:
"You should really think about getting a machete and a file to sharpen it while you're in Central America. It will really come in handy and you can take advantage of the abundance of coconut trees," said Gio.
Yesterday:
Pulling up to the dock in Bocas del Toro is like a scene out of Pirates of the Caribbean. A colonial style town built right over the water with a grimy feel to it. I half expected Captain Jack Sparrow to come walking down the dock and row out to the tall ship moored off the coast.
Stepping out of the Ponga onto the dock, Chet said, "where do we start?"
"I don't know, let's try the hostels first."
Chet and I were looking for surfboards. We looked at every hostel in town to see if any guests were selling boards before flying home. Getting tired and sweating profusely in the heat of the day, we eventually stumbled upon some boards that were a good deal.
Dehydrated, I look up and see a sign that says Ferrerteria - a hardware store. Remembering the recommendation to buy a machete, we walk in out of the blazing heat and humidity. The sweat covering our skin instantly evaporates due to the air conditioning.
Quickly finding a cheap, small machete, I walk out of the store machete and file in hand for six dollars. Getting home and looking at it, I found that you definitely get what you pay for. Not that it's a bad machete but they basically handed me a piece of steel in the shape of a machete with a handle on it... Getting out my file, I get to work and grind away. A few minutes later the two reclusive people in the room next to us walk by. As usual they smile but don't say hi. I go back to filing.
An hour or so later they come back and I'm still sharpening my machete. I imagine myself to be Indiana Jones. They probably see me as the crazy guy that's been sharpening the machete in front of their door for the last hour.
I see them holding two coconuts in their hands and as an ice breaker, I tell them they are welcome to use my machete. I mean it's about time they say something, we have been sharing a bathroom and kitchen with them for the last few days...
Seeing that I'm offering my machete, they smile and begin to open up. They thank me and said they will use it in the morning. After a bit more talking I found out the guy is from France and the girlfriend lives in Panama. For them it was enough talking and they head to their room like they usually do.
Glad that the awkwardness was broken in between our groups, I wielded my machete and prep all of the food for dinner. Maybe it was overkill but I enjoyed it.
This morning:
Waking up early, I walk down to see Chet making coffee. We are quiet because Karen is still sleeping. I look at the coconuts the couple brought back. They were perfect for coconut water.
I have learned that you let the coconut ripen to certain stages for different uses. For coconut water you want a greenish yellow look with a glossy sheen. For the meat, you want more yellow and less green.
Soon afterwards the couple comes out of their room. The girl pointing to the coconuts says something in French. I presume, "do you want coconut water." With the man saying yes, the girl grabs a coconut and asks me in Spanish for the machete. I hand it to her and study her closely. After her knowledge on picking coconuts, I conclude that she is good at opening coconuts. I hope to learn a new technique for opening them.
She walks over to the edge of the deck and I follow. To my surprise she sets the coconut on the wooden deck and begins to hack on it with half hearted swings. Missing the coconut most of the time she chips away at the deck more than the coconut.
I move closer and she gives me a look saying "I shouldn't do this here should I?" I send her a mental thought saying "no" and she moves off the deck. Walking down the cement footpath she points to the ground and says "here." She puts it in the dirt and shifts the coconut around a bit. Not liking it in the dirt she moves it to the cement and gets it settled.
To my demise she begins swinging at the coconut on the pavement. Missing half the time, my ears start ringing from the sound of the machete glancing off the cement.
Woosh!! Thwack!! Contact with the coconut!
Woosh!! Ting!! Machete hits the cement...
After a minute of no progress on the coconut, she looks at the blade unsatisfied with the progress as if asking herself why it's so dull. Not sure I should be scared she's going to lose her hand or that I should be angry for her dulling my machete, I walk back onto the deck. I soon hear the ringing of my machete hitting the pavement.
Blocking the sound out of my mind, she comes back five minutes later smiling with the open coconut in her hand. Pouring the water into two glasses, they sip their coconut happily as I look at my now dull machete.
Come to find out she's from Panama City and probably has never used a machete before.
All I'm left with is a dull machete and no new technique on cracking coconuts.
when we were in Fiji last year the locals would open coconuts by orienting them in a specific way on the palm of their hand, hold their had over a bowl, and literally give a hard tap with the back of a big butcher knife... the coconut would split in half super easy and the water ran into the bowl... I did not try it...probably would have chopped my hand off..
ReplyDeleteThe locals showed me how to do a similar thing here. I've gotten pretty good at opening them!
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