San Blas Islands – Day 4 & 5: A Quiet Farewell
SAN BLAS ISLANDS
Day 4 & 5: A Quiet Farewell
February 20 & 21, 2023
And with that, I had to say goodbye to the Caribbean. Three days of soaking in sun and saltwater felt like the perfect way to part ways. Three days of swimming, chilling in a hammock and reading. Three nights spent in huts and tents – unwashed, free, wild.
The boat ride back to Panama City felt different from all the ones that had come before it. Not louder, not rougher, not even sad in any obvious way – just heavier. I stood near the edge, gripping the rail, letting the salt spray hit my face. The engine droned steadily beneath my feet, a sound I’d grown so used to that it now felt comforting, almost like white noise for the soul. I watched the islands recede behind us, each one shrinking into the horizon until they became nothing more than faint green smudges floating on an endless sheet of blue.
I tried to take in everything at once: the smell of salt and fuel, the warmth of the sun cutting through the breeze, the rhythm of the waves slapping against the hull. I wanted to remember it all exactly as it was. Just staring – without any anticipation. Just the quiet understanding that this chapter was closing, whether I was ready for it or not. The Caribbean had been a constant companion for months, and now it was slipping away without ceremony. No grand farewell, no dramatic final moment. Just distance, growing mile by mile. I didn’t take any photos. I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and let it go.
A Fever Dream
We arrived back in Panama City late in the evening. I had sworn to move on from my time in the Caribbean without looking back. I’d have another day to explore Panama City and then, the next leg of my journey would start – one I was really looking forward to.
As fate would have it, there was something holding me back from that. I was, once again, feeling like crap. My throat was sore and what by then felt pretty much like a fever had settled in, the kind that creeps up slowly and then plants itself firmly in your bones. As soon as I got back to my hostel, I gave up the fight entirely. I collapsed into bed, curtains half-drawn, backpack still half-unpacked, and let the day dissolve into a blur of sweat, shivers and half-conscious naps. For the first time in months, my body simply refused to cooperate.
I’d had plans, of course. I was meant to visit Panama Viejo, wander through the crumbling remains of the original city and imagine what it must’ve been like before pirates, fires and time itself reduced it to ruins. I wanted to duck into museums, soak up one last dose of history and culture, tick off a few final boxes before calling it a day on Panama.
But if I’m being honest, the only thing I really cared about was the carnival. I’d somehow, almost accidentally, aligned my itinerary with one of the biggest celebrations in the country without even realising it, and now that I was finally here, I was going to miss it anyway. No music, no parades, no chaos, no catharsis. Just the muffled sounds of the city outside and my own annoyance echoing inside my head.
An Unceremonious End
And so, I spent my last remaining day in Panama – nay, my last remaining day in Central America – doing absolutely nothing. Brooding, sulking, staring at the ceiling, scrolling through old photos, replaying moments I’d already lived a dozen times over.
Needless to say, this wasn’t the grand finale I would’ve scripted for myself. There was no epic sunset, no last-minute adventure, no poetic full circle moment. Just a bed, a sore throat and a body demanding rest after months of motion. But somewhere between the feverish haze and the boredom, something shifted.
Being forced to stop, to lie still, gave me the space to mentally retrace the entire journey – from the first border crossing to the last island, from jungles and volcanoes to reefs and ruins, from strangers who became friends to places that briefly felt like home. And when I looked at it that way, it didn’t really matter how the trip ended. What mattered was everything that had come before it. And damn… there had been a hell of a lot of it.
No matter how sickly, no matter how feeble, the following day I’d have to move on. I’d have to bid adios to Central America – the land that had welcomed me and made me feel like one of its own. And I was ready for it. I was ready for all of it. And with that… Thank you Panama. Thank you Central America!
