A hunky American in the Peace Corps told us to go to Red Frog beach after our discouraging search on our first day…it turns out most of the good beaches can only be reached by boat (we should really buy a Lonely Planet). So, Cailey, and an English, Irish girl and I hopped on one of the many boats that are always waiting to take people to the main island and asked him to take us to Red Frog. It cost five dollars each to go to the island and two dollars to actually go to the beach; they even give you a bracelet (which promptly came off in the water) like an amusement park… if amusement parks were absolute beach paradises!
The boat driver agreed to come back and get us at four thirty, and we hiked through the pretty forest trail for about ten minuets until we got to the longest, sparkling blue, white sand beach I have been to in Panama. Whoa! There was a small cluster of people near the opening from the path but we walked down for about ten minuets and there was nobody to be seen. We could have skinny dipped on the most glorious beach ever. But we didn’t.
However, we did jump in the waves grinning like idiots, giggling and frolicking in the clear turquoise water with an ocean floor of soft, white sand, and floated on our backs until we got pruned.
When we got thirsty we walked to the little bar that had cold drinks and in the air we heard a rumor of hot dogs. The first bartender claimed they had no food, but after a little bit of coaxing and waiting we ate our hot dogs happily on funky swing seats in a break from the hot sun.
Sunburnt but with satisfied souls, we took the boat, exactly on time, back to the hostel.
|Written by Robin Dishner|
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