Â Â Â While entertaining the notion of getting on a bridge over the Panama Canal to take photos, the police drove by eyeing me suspiciously.Â Their expressions encouraged me to look elsewhere.Â Further down was a gated entrance to an overgrown patch of land with some abandoned houses.Â
Â Â Â Â I lifted the heavy chain and guided my bike into the old road, covered with jungle vines and grass, put the bike into a lower gear and pedaled up a steep grade.Â As I wound around a bend, I began to feel that eerie sensation that I was not alone.Â
Â Â Â Â I soon came upon one of the abandoned houses and felt dozens of eyes watching me from the bushes.Â I could see movement all around me as if the plants were a bit more terrestrial than I would like.Â Something was definitely out there, watching me.
Â Â Â Â â€œHolaâ€� I yelled out, cupping my hands over my mouth to carry the message.
â€œBuenas Tarrrrddddeeess.â€� I called out.
Â Â Â Â Â Nothing.
Â Â â€œBuenos Tardes.â€�Â I called out again, looking around for any sign of el dueno de la casa, y nada. I jumped at the sound of two animals crashingÂ through the foliage just a stoneâ€™s throw away.
Â Â Â Â Â Then out of the house and from the bushes, the eyes that had been following me ran out in front.