At first, Carenero seems like a tiny paradise. And in most ways it is. A one-minute boat ride from the activity of Bocas Town, in Bocas Del Toro, drops you on a trail around the island. You walk by sandy beaches and beautiful left-hander surfing breaks. You stop at one of the few beach bars and restaurants for music, food, and dancing. At the right time of day, you can see monkeys and parrots while crossing the jungle in the quiet northern point.
But after you walk past lovely ex-patriate homes only possible with the ex-pat money, the contrast of the poor local settlements is jarring. Yet, the locals smile and laugh, play futbol, dance and hang on the beach - resilient and vibrant, even if the island’s wealth only brushes their lives. Most welcome the tourist and their money, and welcome a modest share of the windfall.
Carenero is a tiny example of the mixing of cultures. Paradoxically, it is also an example of segregation by ethnicity, race, and language. Within a few square miles of the archipelago, distinct groups live in proximity but are separated by the boundaries of their settlements. Native Ngöbe speak their own language. Afro-Caribbeans speak Patois. Latinos and Chinese speak Spanish. Ex-pats mostly banter in English.
Spanish might bring the group together, but culture, money, and a thinly concealed prejudice of each group against the others, keeps everyone apart. It is dismaying. But fortunately not universal.
On Carenero, at a beach bar, you can see all stripes of people getting along. That gives me hope.
There is much joy and beauty here. This is a happy episode about the sights of the island. Come see what we saw.
Episode Summary (below is automatically generated using AI):
We began our day at Coquito’s Beach Bar on Isla Carenero, a place filled with charm, history, and great food. From there, we walked the island’s coastal trail, passing beachside cafés, small hotels, and colorful homes. Along the way, we saw signs of daily life—laundry drying, dogs lazing, and people enjoying the sunshine. Some night, the island comes alive with music and dancing, with live jazz and salsa lessons drawing people to open-air stages right on the water.
The island surprised us with its peaceful, raw character. While some areas are developed with expat- and locally-owned properties and surf-focused bungalows, much of the interior remains jungle. There are no roads—just footpaths—so everything and everyone arrives by boat. We learned that the island might even have hosted Columbus during his voyages, as its shallow shores made it an ideal spot for careening ships. Wildlife is still present here, from parrots to howler monkeys to sloths, and the surf spots attract adventurous travelers.
What we love most about Carenero is how it balances simplicity with beauty. It’s small—only a couple of miles around—but it offers everything: great views, cool breezes, friendly locals, and a laid-back vibe. It still feels authentic, not overrun by commercialism. Though we know that change may come as more investors arrive, for now it remains a special place. We ended our loop back at Coquito’s, where John Valiente welcomed us warmly and invited everyone to come by for pizza, tacos, sunsets, and live music.
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