Sporting our Sunday best, we made it to the 9am Easter Mass in Las Tablas where the Bishop was present to bless everyone. We took in a bit of the Jesus parade after church, with a postre
from the Panadaria, then headed back “home” to hit the beach. Karen stayed at the house with her nose in a book, enjoying the quiet, and observing the departure ritual of a camping family. A family of 5 emerged from the trees with a propane tank, mattress and luggage. A yellow pickup truck taxi arrived, to receive their belongings into the truck bed and the 3 adults and 2 children climbed into the cab; off they went.The kids have spent hours totally entertained by the water, the sand, and shell collecting. The fluctuations in the tides are dramatic—we can easily go
a quarter mile out at low tide and Rocco, the house dog, accompanies us everywhere we go. CJ and Caroline (with some engineering assistance from Chris) finally managed to cut down a few coconuts and Mr. Caretaker graciously cut them open for us. 
We met one of the neighbors, a Californian who calls himself Clark. He wandered over, we shared a beer and he let us in on a few local secrets such as: loads of shells can be found just past the public beach, the water pressure should return once the municipal workers come to work on Monday and refill the tank (apparently Semana Santa takes a toll on the local water supply), and the fact he finds Panamanian politics akin to “a country run by teenagers.”
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