On cue, if as staged, the soft patter of rain across the valley grew to a steady downpour. Lightning electrified the puffy gray clouds squatting above the Chagres River valley, illuminating their silver linings.
Below us, the steady flow of chartreuse specks of fallen, tailored flowers, carried aloft by leaf-cutter ants, never faltered. As the rain fell in torrents from the clouds, wondered if the anteater we’d seen earlier had taken shelter.
As we sat on the rope hammock on our balcony and felt the humidity rise, our worldview narrowed to that valley, that view, that powerful display of weather that we expected from the Panamanian rainforest.
Panama wasn’t on either of our life lists, but we’ve learned never to turn down a good opportunity to broaden our horizons.
After exploring Guatemala the previous spring, John’s dad was eager to see Panama. His mom, always delighted by the prospect of travel, wouldn’t object. Both had celebrated their 80th birthdays in the no-so-distant past.
And so we found ourselves on a journey to Central America, orchestrated through Caravan Tours but most definitely, for us, Panama, with Parents. Despite being Baby Boomers, we were the youngest in the group.