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Romance in the RainforestTropical Panama�s Gamboa Rainforest Resort Turns Up the Honeymoon HeatBy Patricia Katzman
Brainchild of one of Panama�s leading hoteliers, 340 acre Gamboa Rainforest Resort lies deep in pristine Soberania National Park�s 55,000 lush jungle acres. And just as the illusionary Villas transport you to the romantic past, the resort�s centerpiece hotel, a 5-star jewel of contemporary architecture on the banks of the Chagres River, seduces you with today�s luxuries. Every one of its 107 exotically flavored rooms opens to a private balcony and sweeping views of the mirror-surfaced river and verdant rainforest. Even the gleaming marble bathrooms are oversized and complete with soft cotton terry robes, hairdryers and lavish toiletries. Needless to say, we were delighted to learn this oasis of comfort and luxury operates under carefully administered conservationist guidelines.
Corotu Restaurant�s superb international specialties and candlelit elegance set the mood for an intimate dining experience, but this was neither honeymoon nor rendezvous, so we chose the adjoining outdoor terrace above the ever-changing river. After dinner, you can dance the night away in Capybara Disco or sway in perfect privacy on your moonlit balcony, snuggled deep in a soft cotton hammock for two. Eager to begin the day�s adventures, we sat on the terrace in before-dawn twilight, enjoying steaming cups of rich, dark coffee. Supernatural mists shrouded the looming rainforest, concealing the river beneath its silvery veil. The deep purple sky, streaked with pink and lavender, slowly faded to clear blue as we breakfasted on freshly squeezed juices and luscious mango, pineapple, papaya, melons and strawberries. The rising tropical sun speared golden rays into the spectral shadows, awakening the emerging jungle, and by the time we polished off our warm-from-the-oven pastries, the last wisp of fog had disappeared, leaving sun-washed foliage sparkling with diamond dew.
At the butterfly farm, we discovered these delicate creatures with wings vivid as jewels or transparent as glass, tend to land like fluttery fairies, on one�s shoulder. We learned more than we needed to know about crocodiles and turtles in the reptile house, and about the aquarium�s fishy inhabitants. But the most fascinating—and chilling—was the serpentarium. I paid close attention, taking care to remember how to identify (and avoid) poisonous snakes.
Led by one of the resort�s naturalist guides, we followed a series of narrow trails through the rainforest ecosystem of rugged hillsides, streams, riverbanks and marshes. We stepped over, not on, leaf-cutter ants in single file processions lugging chunks of green leaves bigger than their tiny bodies. Accompanied by ranks of �soldiers,� these industrious insects transport their �harvest� great distances to subterranean �gardens� where the stored leaves sprout a fungus the ants cultivate for their food. A few inch-long paraponera ants lurked in the trees, but we stayed well clear. These squeaking monsters can deliver a painful stinging bite.
Sloths are odd creatures, about the size of a large dog, with perfectly round masked faces that seem to grin. So torpid it may take days for one to climb his tree, these strange animals have long shaggy gray or cream coats. If you see one that looks greenish, it is only moss growing in his snarly hair. No rolling stones these guys! Struggling down a steep, slippery embankment, my first impulse was to grab onto the trunk of the nearest tree. Not a wise move. Some trees are armed with wicked two-inch needle-like spines. Far less threatening are the Cuipos with bulging water-filled trunks and Jacarandas, nicknamed elephant foot trees for their trunk bases that resemble huge elephant feet. Spreading cashew trees have furrowed trunks massed with clustering orchids and delicate ferns. Philodendron leaves grow larger than beach umbrellas. When visiting the rainforest, look into the centers of bromeliads where water collects. Tiny frogs use them for swimming pools. Late one night, I sat alone on my balcony reflecting on the romance of the rainforest. It was lovely to be here with a friend, but as I looked up at the inky sky glittering with ice-crystal stars, I decided to return with my husband for a long-awaited second honeymoon. Only then would I savor romance in the rainforest. After all, what could possibly incite passion more than hacking across the rugged, jungle-reclaimed Las Cruces Trail, following the footsteps of those 16th Century conquistadors who transported looted treasures across Panama from Pacific ports to ships waiting on the Caribbean side—a hot, sweaty trek through steaming rainforest. We can spend the next day rejuvenating in the spa, enjoy a long afternoon nap, swap adventure tales over cocktails in the lobby bar, and put those stars back in our eyes with a late-night candlelight dinner. After that? Well, we�ll see. FOR MORE INFORMATION Getting There:
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Text and photographs by Patricia Katzman © |
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The aura of a Bogey and Bacall interlude pervades the Villas at Gamboa Rainforest Resort, three quarters of a century—or a three-minute walk—from the main hotel complex. Faithful restoration transports these historic wooden structures, built in the 1930�s to house Panama Canal administrators, back in time to an era rife with romance. Cotton candy pastel exteriors, like giant gift boxes with windows, wrap interior apartments with white wood walls, timeless wicker furnishings and slowly revolving ceiling fans in yesteryear�s nostalgia. Sun-warmed breezes drifted in through filmy white curtains whispering �Key Largo�s� lilting melody. Or so I imagined, during a brief flight of fancy. In that moment, I felt a pang of regret my traveling companion was a friend, not my husband. Still, it would not have been the least surprising to hear a gruff, disembodied, �Here�s lookin� at you, kid,� toast from the past.
Dominating the hotel�s three-tiered lobby, soaring windows frame river and rainforest, a three-dimensional impressionist�s canvas of shimmering water and verdant multi-hued greens brush-stroked with vibrant red, pink, yellow and purest white flowering trees. Tropical sunlight streams over comfortably grouped sofas and chairs, lofty orchid arrangements and leafy greenery, highlighting polished hardwood counters and furnishings with a golden sheen. Serendipitous handcrafted twisting metal vines rail the balcony and open stairway descending between a cascading indoor waterfall and those magnificent windows, to the lower level restaurant, disco and spa.
We found among the gift shop�s quality tee shirts, books and souvenirs, an exceptional selection of carvings, baskets and �molas� crafted by Panama�s indigenous Embera and Kuna people. Molas are brightly colored fabric squares, hand-sewn in reverse
appliqu�, usually portraying native flowers, animals or mythical creatures. Kuna women sew them on their lovely blouses and they are suitable for framing. Indigenous artworks will be stunning remembrances of your rainforest honeymoon, but we bought some simply for their sheer beauty and extraordinary craftsmanship.
The library, tucked away in an enclosed balcony above the lobby, is a serene hideaway of polished hardwood shelves, soft lighting, live orchid plants and deep leather sofas. Finding books about the country�s exotic wildlife, I was tempted to smoosh into one of those inviting sofas and read. I didn�t though. The lure of the real thing drew me quickly away. 
Our small craft eased into the slow current, skimming the opalescent river to a labyrinth of jungle-cloaked islands. �This is Monkey Island,� the pretty young guide announced, cutting the engine to let the boat drift close to a vegetation-tangled bank. �Look,� she whispered, pointing to a pair of wizened little faces peering through a flowering bush. �Whiteface monkeys.� As we sat quietly watching, the little female kept us in nervous sight, but the larger male bared his teeth and chattering with rage, skittered out of sight into the dense underbrush.
Moving ever so slowly, we proceeded deeper into the maze, eyes peeled for more exotic wildlife. Startled by sudden booming, gut-thumping roars echoing through the watery canyons, we quickly located the source—a troop of howler monkeys. Allowing us only fleeting glimpses of black-brown fur, they retreated faster than our goose bumps, swooping away through the treetops. The jungle resumed its peaceful demeanor as we drifted past plump green iguanas squatted on overhanging branches—antediluvian sentinels staring with beady, unblinking eyes. On a stone-littered shore, worried pacas scrabbled for edibles while river turtles plopped into the water, jostled from jutting rocks by their crowding pals. And there were birds everywhere—wading the riverbanks, settled in the trees, soaring overhead, paddling in the river and diving beneath its surface; tiny iridescent ducks, sooty anhingas, tapping woodpeckers, shiny cormorants, drifting kites, snowy egrets, regimental red macaws, green yellow-head parrots and darting flycatchers. But the most thrilling sight of all was a mother three-toed sloth with her clinging baby, dangling among the vines, high in a mossy tree. 
Back on land, and hungry for more flora and fauna, we toured the resort�s conservationist exhibits, making our first stop the orchid nursery. Dedicated to preservation, each exhibit has naturalist guides on hand to explain and describe their charges. More than 2500 years ago, Confucius commended orchids �for their wondrous beauty and scent.� Panama has more than 200 identified native species and it�s national flower is the lovely, waxy white Flor del Espiritu Santo. These amazing plants may produce only one single perfect bloom or two, three, a dozen or hundreds of every imaginable color and size. Some look as if dipped in a rainbow, others are spotted or striped like jungle cats. One little plant�s showering spray was heavy with snow-white flowers, perfect miniature cattleyas—the familiar corsage orchids—but each one tiny as a baby�s fingernail.
Los Logartos Restaurant, near the marina and Panama Canal junction, is named for the crocodiles that hang out in the water lily festooned lagoon below the dining terrace. Disguised as partially submerged logs, these huge prehistoric creatures loll unmoving, waiting patiently for a handout. Exceptional service and delicious artfully displayed food made this dining adventure a gourmet delight. Many menu choices are original creations, as was my fresh, gently grilled peacock bass and smoked salmon with crisp asparagus, green beans, chayote and slivered carrots drenched in a delicate creamy sauce, a house specialty. Unfortunately for the patient crocs, nothing was left save a smidgen of roll. Lingering over coffee to watch giant freighters and cruise ships steam through the canal, we noticed other diners had not saved them much either.
An open-sided, uniquely designed transport (part bus, part truck) painted in gay rainforest motifs, jounced us past the tennis courts, helipad and gardens up a steep, jungle hillside to the aerial tram base. Specially constructed gondola cars glide silently up from the jungle floor past lacy ferns, colossal vine-wrapped trees, darting lizards and chirping birds to a graded ramp leading to a mountaintop tower above the rainforest canopy. From this breezy aerie, the rugged jungle is a knobby green carpet threaded with silvery winding rivers, fading into a background of distant hazy mountains. Huge ships transiting the canal looked smaller than model railroad toys and we could almost reach out to touch cotton ball clouds drifting in the forget-me-not sky.
At first the jungle seems wrapped in silence, but if you listen quietly, it becomes alive with chirps, scratchings, whistles, chitterings and chatterings. Seedpods rain down, discarded by feasting birds, branches crack, palm fronds rattle like maracas, and insects whine monotonously. Proceeding quietly as possible, we heard howler monkeys grunting in the distance and watched spider monkeys, tiny babies clinging to their backs, make their graceful way through the treetops. Our laughter broke the silence when shiny black toucans with bright yellow bibs � Froot Loop birds � put on a comical hopping performance. Surprisingly agile, we expected them to topple facedown onto those hugely oversized rainbow-colored beaks with every hop. Laughter turned to silent gaping awe when a stunningly beautiful electric-blue morpho butterfly flapped by on elegant six-inch wings. Closer to the ground, we inspected thumbnail size frogs, scurrying prehistoric lizards, and a juvenile vested anteater who played peek-a-boo from behind a tree. Perhaps the little charmer thought if he couldn�t see us, we couldn�t see him. 
Tropical frogs, like tropical flowers, come in every imaginable color and most, like the resort�s mascot, the red-eyed tree frog, are small. Crystal frogs are almost transparent, and vividly red, purple, bright yellow or orange poison dart frogs are often spotted or multi-colored. We watched a terrified agouti�s backside scoot into the underbrush, caught a fleeting glance of a rare red deer, but had to wait until back at the hotel to see a coatimundi—a solitary bold fellow scrounging the hotel lawn.