On Day Two of our Panama adventure, we climbed 1,800 feet to the Valle de Anton to see the world’s second-largest volcanic crater – second only to the Ngorogoro in Tanzania. We were met by Ivan Hoyos of Ancon Expeditions, Panama’s only Virtuoso tour provider and a conservation-oriented company linked with one of Panama’s oldest conservation groups. Ivan, who is cited in Lonely Planet, is a lively interpreter of the country’s history, culture, ecology, and almost anything that might interest a traveler.

Panama, Ivan was quick to tell us, is an ecotourism rival to Costa Rica that in many ways exceeds the superlatives of its northern neighbor. “Panama actually has more bird species than Costa Rica, and it also has more protected area,” he said. “What Costa Rica has is fantastic marketing.” Panama derives the lion’s share of its GNP from canal-related commerce, making tourism a secondary, but increasingly appreciated, source of revenue.

The Valle of Anton was our main destination for the day, ending back in Panama City for two days of urban exploration.

Nestled among the cloud-draped peaks of the Cordillera Central, the central mountain range that runs like a spine down the middle of the country, the community of the Valle sparkles in the morning sun with terra-cotta roofs and colorful storefronts and houses.

After our stay on the beach, an hour’s drive up into the mountains took us into an entirely different world. We curved up and up through huge stands of rainforest, stopping to gasp at the occasional vistas of dramatic, bright green peaks against the blue sky. One series of peaks, La India Dormida (the sleeping Indian woman), has a poignant story behind it, which Ivan related as we made out her reclining profile along the skyline.

Our first stop, after the mirador with its dramatic spreading vista, was at the Chorro Macho, a 85-foot waterfall at the heart of a private jungle reserve that is open to the public, offering trails and canopy tours. Massive strangler figs competed for space with dozens of rainforest trees, hanging with enormous and lush philodendron vines. A cacaphony of marvelous birdsong enveloped us as we made our way down to the rushing river below, stopping to watch the birds flit from tree to tree.

After our steep climb back to the human world of cars and pavement, we were more than ready to indulge our human appetites in a sumptuous spread at the Casa de Lourdes, a charming restauarant and B&B set in a colonial-style home with a breathaking view of the misty Cerro Gaitan and surrounding gardens from its collonaded terrace.

Lourdes Fabrega de Ward, founder of the famed Golosinas restaurant in Panama City, was unfortunately not there to greet us, but her husband, the crisp British retired diplomat Edmund Ward, did the honors. He told the story of how Lourdes, a graduate of the national university who went to London for her master’s in foreign relations, decided to open a restaurant. “She couldn’t even boil water when she started,” he said with a laugh.

These days, with a first-rate staff to bring her creative menus to life, she has no need to boil water. We lingered happily over the result, a delightful repast of seafood cocktail, corvina (sea bass) with tamarind sauce and a maracuyá (passion fruit) mousse not soon to be forgotten.

Fully satiated, we headed off to explore the local market. I had some gift shopping to do, so I perused a fine assortment of molas – an art form originated by the indigenous Kuna people who live in the islands off the Caribbean coast of Panama – and for my comadre Maite’s birthday, I ended up selecting one made by a beautiful Kuna woman in her traditional costume, a beautiful black bag adorned with an appliquéd toucan amid a background of brightly colored geometric designs.

Other typical craft items included framed feathers painted with delicate depictions of Panamanian birds; slices of tropical trees painted with the regional landscapes; ceramic depictions of the Panamanian golden frog, now so critically endangered that there may be none left in the wild; and a wide assortment of other novelties.

We ended the day back in Panama City with an unforgettable tasting menu at Barrandas, the signature restaurant of Chef Cuquita Arias, called the “Martha Stewart of Panama” – indeed, Cuquita studied under Martha Stewart, but it’s hard to imagine the American homemaking icon matching Cuquita’s warmth and color.

Round after round of carefully crafted delicacies, each of them a tiny work of culinary art, were presented on long, colorful wooden display panels for our inspection and consumption. Cuquita came out to explain the story behind each of them – recipes that reveled in her love of Panamanian tradition.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Meet Dave and Anna, the Permacyclists.

She was a corporate lawyer from Brussels; he was a sociologist from New York. Neither of them was happy with their chosen profession, and after a great deal of soul searching, they decided to do what many dream of but few actually do: They quit their jobs, studied permaculture, bought bicycles and headed off across Africa, pedaling and working their way through 12 countries, 12,000 kilometers and 16 months from organic farm to organic farm, sharing what they’d learned along the way.

Now they’ve landed in Mexico and are launching a Phase 2 of their journey, but with a difference. This time they’re bringing a video camera and sound equipment, and documenting the stories of people working on solutions to the many environmental problems they have learned about in their travels. Their goal is to make it to the Earth Summit in Rio in June 2012. And this time they’re going by bus, instead of bike, to give them time to do reporting, writing and producing for their blog.

I was inspired by their story and by their plan, since in some ways it parallels my own – so we got together and shared stories. Here’s a little bit of theirs.

The cheery young couple quickly turn sober when they contemplate the ravaged landscape they encountered in Africa – not because of war and famine, the typical scenarios associated with Africa, but because of severe environmental degradation. Soil erosion, deforestation, desertification, invasive species taking over and killing out what’s left of the local ecosystems. “We were biking through all those problems for 16 months,” said Annabelle. “And yes, we have seen some amazing tropical forests, but you could be sure as soon as you left that little national park you would see not a single tree.”

Climate change was a big topic of conversation wherever they went: New York, Belgium, all throughout Africa, and now in Mexico. In Mozambique, they biked along a coast through miles and miles of former rice fields ruined by the saltwater that had flooded them during a tsunami. At Mount Kilimanjaro, they compared historic photos of the ice-capped mountain with its dwindling patch of white.

“How can we deny climate change is happening? People are talking about it everywhere,” said Anna. “They talk about how the rainy season hasn’t come and how its really weird because it’s too wet but not at the right time, and how things have changed.

“But people are acting on this, and that’s the good news.”

That’s how their project evolved to focus on sustainability efforts throughout the continent.

“I find myself much happier when I’m working with people who are working on solutions, rather than those who are saying we are all going to die,” said Annabelle. “To keep saying we’re going to die is not helping, it’s not moving people to action.”

Their families were not happy about their decision to take off across Africa on their bikes. Both mothers, independently of each other, notified them that when they were kidnapped – “not if, but when” – they would not be responsible for the ransom, Dave said. “They took a picture that was a profile of the ear so they could identify us when they found the corpse,” he laughs when he recalls the moment.

And then there was the reaction to Annabelle’s decision to leave her career as a successful lawyer. “It was like: You studied for six years and you have a practice and you’re going to throw it away for what? to go biking?”

There were some actual dangers – they were mock-chargd by a gorilla in Uganda and a hippo in Botswana. “Believe me, when you have that thing of 1.5 tons running toward you in the water, where it’s strongest, and you’e in a little plastic boat…. it’s quite humbling,” Anna recalls.

But the dangers were not at all what the family and friends were worried about. “The image of Africa in the West is just not fair and it’s racist in a lot of ways,” said Dave. Of course, he added, most Westerners haven’t been there, except for a handful who go on safaris, and given the conditions reported by most of the media coverage, it’s a pretty scary place. But the Permacyclists found Africa to be filled with people who were kind, caring and generous.

In Nairobi, he recalled – which has earned the moniker “Nairobbery” – the pair kept a low profile. “We were totally intimidated. We didn’t take a chance, didn’t try to meet local people.” On the last day, nervous at the prospect that they’d have to cross the scary shantytown area, they were surprised to see all the people smiling and waving as they cycled by.

“That same day we met a great guy who ran three kilometers across an open field to tell us we were going the wrong way,” he said. “People were looking out for us, and we didn’t even realize.”

Finally, after many months and many miles, the family came around.

“They saw that we were happy,” said Annabelle.

“And that we didn’t die,” said Dave.

“Let’s face it – some of it’s luck,” said Anna. “Bad things happen – I was a criminal lawyer, so I know. You can get robbed, but you can get robbed in Brussels, too, or New York. So let’s stop being scared. Let’s throw the TV out the window, and let’s get out and meet people. That’s where it’s happening.”

The pair’s second tour of duty started with a three-week natural building class in North Carolina. From there they headed to Houston, where they ran into the folks from Transition Houston, a dynamic part of the Transition Towns movement – who put them in touch with me. Their first video project was about that group and its projects. Here it is.

#1 Transition Houston from Permacyclists on Vimeo.

So far, they say, they’ve been blessed with enthusiastic support everywhere they’ve gone.

“It’s like we’ve stumbled across this underground world of people who are doing amazing things, and now here we are in Guadalajara and we have six interviews lined up and a place to sleep,” said Dave.

To Anna, that response serves to underscore a valuable lesson that their journeys have taught them.

“You know you’re nothing alone – but together, we’re something quite powerful. It’s about the power of groups, the power of community – you’re not alone in this world. Get out and do something, talk to people. It’s really magical.”

Follow the Permacyclists on their blog and on Facebook and Twitter. And check out the trailer for their upcoming movie!

I’ve made my list and checked it a million times; selected and reselected my gear; said my goodbyes and received good wishes and safe travel blessings from near and far. I’ve left my car keys, my smart phone and my GPS behind. I’ll be making my way by foot now and by mass transit; everything I’ll need is either in my pack or shoulder bag, or it’s something I’ll have to find along the way, or live without.

I’ve been on multiple deadlines for weeks, with barely a moment to linger over a cup of tea with a loved one. Now the last loved one has pulled away from the curb, I’ve checked my backpack and I’ve made my way through security with an hour to spare, and there’ll be lingering aplenty.

Today, the only thing on my list is Mexico City.

There in the Mexican megalopolis, people are still rushing to make appointments – and I will too, tomorrow. But this afternoon I’ll greet a climate 40 degrees warmer and a mindset to match. I’ll slow down and take time to think; to read a book; to chat with the people I meet along the way. I’ll take time to breathe and look around.

“Are you excited?” my daughter texted me last night as I checked my list for the millionth time.

“Not yet,” I responded. “Just a little panicky: Have I forgotten something? Will I miss my flight? Do I have everything I need?”

Now, however, as the coffee does its work and boarding time approaches, I have a moment to reflect on the year ahead. Yes, I’m excited. Also apprehensive – and curious – and a little bit sleepy. But mostly I’m grateful.

In the year ahead, my plan is to travel the length of Latin America, from Mexico to Patagonia, documenting the Latin American environmental movement all along the way for The Esperanza Project and other publications. I hope you will follow my journey on both sites. The Esperanza Project will be focused on telling the stories of protagonists in the sustainability movement in the Americas; Roads Less Traveled will be about my personal experience, part travel narrative, part advice for a new generation of digital nomads. At the end, I’ll have a book to write and perhaps a documentary to put together, as I will be shooting video as well.

Not many people have the opportunity to take a year to follow their dream. I am hoping that I can do something bigger with this trip – to do what all dreamers hope to do, to make a difference, for myself, for others and for the planet. But even if I don’t, it’s the adventure of a lifetime, and with that, I’m satisfied.

For those of you who have offered your support, your prayers and your ideas and suggestions, I thank you. Thanks most of all for reading, and check this spot soon, and also The Esperanza Project. You can subscribe by e-mail or RSS feed from both of the sites, and/or you can follow me on Facebook (both as a fan of The Esperanza Project and as a friend of ME – And also on Twitter, @esperanzaprojec and @thirstyboots07.

I don’t know how this story will end any more than you do. But won’t it be fun to find out?

Location Independent
Digital nomads redefine the office

by Tracy L. Barnett, contributing writer

Last spring, I was handed an amazing opportunity. But at first it seemed like a disaster.
Like millions of others in this recession, I lost my job. It was especially unsettling, as I had moved to Houston not so long ago to take that job.

Nonetheless, I took stock of my situation and realized it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. My daughter was grown and nearing completion of her education; I had no mortgage, no debt, no health problems and a little bit of savings. I had a marketable skill set, and no urgent need to make a lot of money.

This might just be the moment to follow my dreams, I said to myself.

Most of my life I’d worked for someone else: Newspaper corporations, nonprofit organizations, a university. I had always wanted to see what I could do working for myself. And I’d always wanted to take a year for travel.
I spent hours surfing the web, seeking a way to make it happen, and I found that I was far from alone. In fact, an international community has emerged to share ideas and support each other in what is being called the location-independent lifestyle.

Some of these folks are digital nomads, whose virtual office spans the globe. Some are just as happy to work from their bedroom or the neighborhood coffeehouse. Some want to spend time with their family; others want to leave the rat race and strike out on their own.

All are engaging in a fundamental reassessment of work and its role in their lives, a concept called lifestyle design – the notion that you can design your life to live according to your priorities.

As I write, I am preparing for a yearlong journey through Latin America. I’m creating a new media web initiative, a book and a documentary, and while I hope to land a nice grant proposal to support myself, I’m not counting on it. I’m counting on making money through location-independent jobs.

As a travel writer, this may be easier for me than for, say, an insurance salesman or a school counselor. There are certain professions that lend themselves to portability, and most of them involve the internet. Nowadays you can get a signal almost anywhere, as cybercafés and hotspots have popped up all over the world.

Location-independent professionals – or as they call themselves, LIPs – can be Web designers, marketing consultants, editors, content providers, virtual assistants, e-bay sellers, bloggers, lifestyle coaches or something entirely new that hasn’t yet been invented.

I think of my former colleagues, battling traffic as they head to the newsroom each day, as I consider my to-do list: Rent storage locker; line up mover; make arrangements for my mail (my most trusted friend), my cat (my sister), my car (my dad). Research so many things. Which camera? Which backpack? Should I buy a Kindle for all my guidebooks and background reading? (Actually, it turns out I can download a reader for my ipod for free.)

The countdown has begun, and these days as I see my cat curled up in a ball, I take a few seconds to bend down and kiss her furry head. I spend a little more time with leisurely phone conversations with family and friends – I’m asking them to install Skype on their computers so we can talk, but still, a year is a long time to see your daughter’s face only in photographs and webcam.

She knows it’s my lifelong dream to hit the road, head south and keep on going, and now, as a grown woman with her own family and her own acupuncture practice, she supports me fully. But the gravity of the situation hit us both recently when I handed her the folder with my life insurance policy, my living will and my retirement accounts.

She fixed those beautiful brown eyes on me steadily. “I know you have to do this, Mom,” she said. “But please, don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“I won’t,” I promise, and the moment passes.

Now I am making appointments in Mexico City and Guadalajara and the Yucatan; seek corporate sponsors and affiliate advertisers for my website. Oh, and keep on reporting and turning in freelance assignments all the while.

I think of the words of another friend who was laid off at around the same time and is also going it alone: “I’m twice as happy on half the money.

Now I think I can live with that.

For more information, see www.locationindependent.com and, for job listings, www.freelanceswitch.com.

Definitely, I was not ready for Cuba.

It seems that getting a Cuban journalist’s visa is a great deal more complicated than I had been led to believe. My lack of attention to this particular detail led to a brusque reception by disbelieving bureaucrats, a long cold night in Jose Martí International Airport, and the first flight back to Cuba.

It was a costly, embarrassing and extremely painful lesson, but here’s what I learned. I’m sharing the story in the hopes that you will learn from my mistakes.

Outskirts of Havana from the airplane window

(1) Never believe your travel agent when she tells you she’ll handle the visa for you. Even when your agent works for one of a handful of companies licensed to take U.S. citizens to Cuba, and she knows you’re a journalist, and you’ve already received a specific journalist license from the U.S. Government, faxed to her at her request, and when she’s told you that you can just pick it up at the counter along with your ticket. Don’t believe her to be an expert in these matters. She is not.

In this case, she was a Brazilian native recently hired by the company – a nice lady who feels very badly about what happened, but in no way knowledgeable about Cuban journalist visas, which are notoriously hard to procure.

(2) Don’t assume the official-looking Spanish-language documents in your packet are what you think they are. Had I inspected the documents I was given instead of rushing off to the gate post-haste I would have noticed that there was no visa; only a swine flu screening document, an embarkation form and a customs form. At that point I might have had some options. But I didn’t notice this until I was in Havana, at which point my options were extremely limited.

(3) Don’t rely on the guidebook, which devotes many pages to explaining how to get U.S. permission to travel to Cuba, but only a couple of paragraphs to the Cuban journalist visa – one of them stating that if you come in on a tourism visa, you can request a status change and get a journalist visa in about a week. This guide is not written for journalists and while that may or may not be true, it’s no indication of the ease or difficulty in getting a journalist visa to enter the country in advance.

(4) Don’t do international travel – particularly to a country that has been estranged with your own for several decades – on two hours’ sleep.

(5) Blogging, tweeting, facebooking and texting family and friends are optional. Mindful attention to logistics is not.

Bruno Henríquez, a solar energy expert and science fiction author I was scheduled to meet, consoled me via e-mail when he received my bad news.

“Here in Cuba, we have a saying: ‘Lo que sucede, conviene.’”

Roughly translated: What happens is the best thing.

It’s a tough one to swallow at the moment, but it comforts me to think that in the long run, Bruno’s wise words will be made manifest.

Back home in Houston, I’m investigating my options. I’ll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, it’s time to turn this fiasco into the best thing possible.

But Anne De Long is no ordinary wilderness guide. She’s also a tango dancer, along with the rest of my group, which means that life really begins long after the sun goes down. And so I found myself at 1 a.m., pack strapped to my back, hoofing an hour upwards into the Uinta National Forest in the wake of a troupe of tango dancers.

I am reluctant to reveal the whereabouts of these hot springs. Let me just say that they were well worth the climb. (OK, I’ll give just one hint: its name is Diamond Fork. But don’t ask me how to get there. I couldn’t tell you, anyway – I was asleep!) By the time I’d huffed and puffed my way up the last switchback, Anne had set the scene with candles all around the secluded pool and Suan had set the “table” – a rock in the center of the pool – with olives and brie and crostini and red wine.

When we were sated from food, wine and laughter — among the many talents that Anne totes around in that backpack of hers is the persona of a slightly bawdy showgirl — she led us to the foot of the waterfall where we plunged into its icy torrents and shattered the peaceful night with screams of delight.

We soaked our cares away till nearly dawn, when we crawled into our sleeping bags and slept like the dead until the hot rays of the sun popped over the canyon wall and crept into our bags. Imagine our surprise to find a troupe of blonde, uniformed cheerleaders making their way into our open-air boudoir.

All good things must come to an end, as they say. Sigh.

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Nonetheless, two days were what we had, and our friends worked overtime to show us some of the highlights: Kayaking on the Great Salt Lake; a twilight concert downtown with the originator of reggae; a midnight hike up a mountain to an unforgettable night under the stars at Diamond Fork Hot Springs; a vegetarian buffet at a Taj Mahal-like Krishna temple in the sagebrush-covered valley and a drive through the verdant aspen forests of Sundance and the Alpine Loop.

First was the kayaking expedition. Anne De Long, our guide, warned us that the brine flies might be out in force, but we decided to chance it. We were so glad we did. The spectacular vistas, the salty air and the strange sensation of bobbing effortlessly above the briny depths made for an unforgettable experience.

Here’s a little preview:

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Anyone staying in a Mexico City hotel will receive free hospitalization, prescription drugs, doctor’s care and even hotel accommodations during convalescence.

A total of 353 people have died of the virus worldwide since the so-called pandemic hit the news in April. Meanwhile, several hundred people die of regular flu each week, as CNN pointed out.

Mexico’s tourism industry, one of the country’s most important sources of income, has been battered by the wave of negative press coverage, first because of drug-related violence (virtually none of which has affected tourists) and then swine flu (ditto). Which is a shame, since Mexico is home to an enormous wealth of culture, history, cuisine and some of the friendliest people in the world – and it’s right next door.

As for me, I’ll be going to Mexico as soon and as often as possible. With or without free health insurance.

Hundreds of miles of coastline stretch from Galveston to the Coastal Bend. I’d always wanted to explore that stretch in between where the Colorado River meets the sea. But aside from a state park on an island that is no longer accessible, nobody I spoke to could say much about what I might find there.

This only made me more curious. So one day I picked up the phone and started calling around. And before I knew it, I was packing my bags and headed for the coast.

What I found surprised me: spectacular beaches, abundant wildlife, great food, a fascinating history, fishing to die for and friendly folks who will make you feel right at home.

What I didn’t find was an overabundance of tourists. A couple from Fort Worth, a father and daughter from Houston, a family from Pearland and a handful of locals — but mostly, miles of white sand pounded by surf and backed by graceful dunes.

Last week I got to spend a couple of glorious days soaking up some of the best this region has to offer. On Aug. 9, the story will appear in the Houston Chronicle and the San Antonio Express-News. Meanwhile, here’s a preview.

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Brand has distinguished himself with a cuisine that is both cutting-edge and creative, while being an active adherent to farm-to-table and sustainable harvesting practices. Here’s an interview I did with Brand at Las Canarias after a memorable lunch in May.

Pesca and Las Canarias and their parent hotels, the Watermark Hotel and Spa and Omni’s La Mansion del Rio, have more to celebrate this month than a new stretch of the River Walk. Both hotels made Travel + Leisure’s “World’s Best Hotels” list — the only hotels in Texas to have received this honor.

Here’s the story in the San Antonio Business Journal.

Of course, it can’t hurt that they’ve got a world-class chef at the helm of their two restaurants. Congrats, y’all.