We arranged with the chiefs son (he ran the restaurant on Isla Tigre and spoke excellent English) to be taken by boat to Kuna grave yard.

Paul in transport to graveyard:

Annie and Stephen:

Patrick:

The two Indians, who took us to graveyard, were very polite and did not laugh when they saw us togged out in trousers, shoes, long sleeved shirts and hats for our trip through the jungle to the graveyard.

It was damn hot and I’m not going again. Since arriving in Panama it has been very humid and I just get saturated every time I go below. Anyway Kuna’s are buried in their hammocks. On top of the grave is a small table with a sail boat, to take their spirit to the nether land, plate for food on the journey and beaker for drink.

Another graveyard view:

and another

Nothing to do with the graveyard but here’s some ants carry leaves to their nest:

 And it’s goodbye to Isla Tigre from Patrick, Stephen and Paul

and Annie – this is she this time, not the sand raker!

and goodbye from the restaurant toilet: