Panama’s Wild West: Expat Living From the Mountains to the Sea

At the foot of the volcano, as night begins to fall, I crunch down a wooded lane strewn with twigs and leaves. Bearing a wedge of cheese and a bottle of wine, I push through a gate. I was invited to come by for a drink, and in the absence of further instruction (“See you tomorrow in the little wooden house!”), I’ve simply turned up.

I find my hosts standing around a glossy brown stallion. Volcán, Panama is that kind of town… perfect for European expats Laurence and Olivier Prouvost, whose young daughter adores horses. (No shortage of them here.)

We continue along the path to a white house with a covered porch, where bread and cheese and other good things are laid out to eat. A little fete is underway. I’m introduced and join in the conversation as it flows past me, easy and unhurried.

Above the mountain peaks, the sky is losing its fiery glow. I’m enjoying the view and the cool mountain breeze… until the June bugs begin to divebomb us. They’re harmless, but become bumbling little lunatics at night. Laughing, we gather up plates and glasses, and move the party inside.

The small wood cabin is warm, with silky cedar walls and bright, beautiful works of art. We sit close together around the coffee table, talking about our travels… food and cultures… and languages we’ve tried to learn.

One of my new acquaintances is Karina Janson Fitz—of “The” Jansons, a family with long ties to this cool and verdant mountain town. She tells me a story from a hundred years ago, when a young fellow named Carl Axel Janson hopped a ship from Sweden and sailed across the seas. This land spoke to him, and when he disembarked, it was for good.

Janson Farms, just down the road from where I’m sitting now, is his legacy. These days you can tour the lake and gardens and sample its coffee at a mountaintop café. Grown in volcanic soil—”hand selected and micro-roasted”—it’s my favorite. (I brew it dark and strong. Six heaping tablespoons in a standard French press, fill with cold water, and leave overnight.)

Laurence and Olivier came to Volcán from France to visit friends—also part of the far-flung Janson clan—16 years ago. The mountain town in the province of Chiriquí is part of Panama’s still-wild western frontier. For Laurence, there was a charme romantique… a romantic charm about the place.

After three days, she woke up, looked at her husband and said: “This is a paradise. We have to buy a piece of land in Volcán.” And so they bought land, designed and built their home, and acquired two horses, Figaro and Espresso. (Their daughter Victoria is living her best life—the 13-year old is fearless as she rides and jumps in perfect jockey position.)

Inspired by the vivid colors and patterns worn by local tribes, Laurence started to paint in a new style. “I began to paint when I was 30, after working many years for a very elegant decoration shop in Cannes,” she says. She points out two of her extraordinary pieces, a camouflaged monkey on the wall above us, and a tiger peeking out from a fantasy forest in the bedroom.

Outside, mountains and jaguars and a volcano slumber under inky black skies. Inside, the wood cabin is bathed in soft, golden light. Bottles of red wine collect on the coffee table while three conversations (in English, with smatterings of French) go on at once.

At the end of the night, we’re all loath to leave. We step outside but linger for another 20 minutes, talking under the starriest of starry skies.

I leave with invitations to come back and stay. When I walk back to my cottage, it’s late and dark. I’m smiling, and I’m blissfully, completely unafraid. Volcán is that kind of town, too.

Live Wild and Free

Chiriquí is cowboy country—one of the first expats I interviewed here cheekily described it as “The Texas of Panama.” But it’s so much more than ranches and livestock. It has mountains and streams and cloudforests, too. It’s home to the Volcán Barú National Park and La Amistad International Park. And it has a coastline, with beaches and pristine islands offshore.

Come to see the ancient stone statues of Sitio Barriles… marvel at thoroughbred horses, vampire orchids, and resplendent quetzals… and marvel at Chiriquí’s agricultural abundance, too. This is Panama’s breadbasket… a farm-filled, food-growing province.

A Diverse Community in the Chiriquí Highlands

The Chiriquí highlands is a forested border region well known as a retirement destination for many a U.S. expat. But every time I’m here, I meet people from all over the world. Cool, fun people that contribute to a rich community tapestry.

The region attracts expats with springlike temperatures and expansive mountain vistas. Volcán is my favorite highland town, but it’s too quiet and small for most. The neighboring district of Boquete is like Old Faithful—reliably one of the best retirement destinations on the planet.

Most expat retirees choose Boquete for its perfect climate and active expat community. Temperatures are generally between 60 F and 85 F—that’s five to 10 degrees warmer than Volcán. In this district of nearly 25,000 people, you have a ready supply of helpful neighbors and service providers to see to every need.

Residents say it’s impossible to be bored here. There are fairs and charity events, concerts and lectures, and so much more. A steady trickle of Panamanian and international tourists adds to the buzzy, lively feel.

There’s a beautiful hotel and country club called The Haven, where memberships cost just $53 to $73 a month. It houses a spa, a gym, a pool, and a café. Take yoga or tai chi classes, get a massage, or chill on the perfectly landscaped grounds.

This year I decided to visit during the Boquete Jazz and Blues Festival, which takes place at the Panamonte Hotel every summer. (Panama’s “summer” runs from December to April.) World-class entertainers have traveled to this mountain hamlet to perform on a stage set in an English garden, complete with twinkling lights and a dramatic mountain backdrop.

It’s better than any concert or festival I’ve ever been to. (Including—forgive me—amazing blues performances I’ve seen in Chicago and New Orleans.) The crowd is an interesting mix of tourists and residents.

I chat with a retired drummer from the States, a Panamanian mom and her teenage daughter, and a young woman from Kansas who’s leading the effort to get more fresh veggies in public school meals. Everyone is friendly and willing to meet me for lunch or drinks while I’m in town.

If you’re in Boquete on a Tuesday, the weekly market is a great place to meet expats, as is Morton’s Bakehouse (try the sourdough bread). There are many more restaurants—everything from cheap fondas to Mexican and Peruvian diners to upscale Panamanian spots like Ngädri (part of the lovely little Isla Verde hotel and residences complex).

There’s also a lot of move-in-ready housing. Get a three-bedroom home on three quarters of an acre for as little as $177,000 or a similar-sized condo overlooking Valle Escondido’s small golf course for $299,000. Take your pick; there’s plenty to choose from.

It’s easy to meet like-minded people in Chiriquí’s small but active highland communities. Christine Seronello moved to Volcán in 2019 at the age of 69. “It was primarily the divisiveness and fear all over the U.S. that inspired me to start researching a different way to spend the rest of my life,” she says.

In her new hometown, she found a sense of community and belonging. She got involved in community service— something that’s always been important to her—and put in hours helping the recycling center, the spay/neuter clinic, and the local chapter of Soroptimist International.

She even helped a Panamanian couple start their own house cleaning and gardening business. “We have since grown to be a family,” she says. “I’m tutoring their seven-year-old daughter (my “granddaughter” now) in English. My social life is pretty much centered around them and my community service.”

Her life brings her great fulfillment, and she can’t see herself leaving. “Where I live in Paso Ancho, three miles north of Volcán, there’s no need for air conditioning. It’s a beautiful environment.”

South to the Coast: 2 Places to Skip and 2 to See From the cool mountains I make the 45-minute drive down to hot, steamy David—Chiriquí’s provincial capital. It’s an inexpensive, convenient city, home to malls, movie theaters, clinics, hospitals, big box stores, government offices… pretty much anything you could possibly need.

A good many expats have moved here, most of them melting into the local population. But with so many wondrous places all around it, I say why choose David? For me, it’s a place to stop for a bite or to buy something I need. (Today it’s wireless earbuds and a Greek salad.)

I continue my drive to the shore, passing the road to La Barqueta beach. The Las Olas resort and residential community here have attracted some expats—it’s on a lovely stretch of bronze-brown beach—but to me it always feels a little dead.

My top picks for coastal Chiriquí are Boca Chica and Las Lajas. They aren’t as close to the hub that is David, and for that reason, they’re less convenient. But for the adventurous, these still largely undeveloped destinations have a lot to offer… and the hour-and-a-half drive is worth it.

When you first lay eyes on the village center at Boca Chica, you may think I’m out of my gourd. It’s tinier than tiny, and no beauty. But just wait till you approach the water… It’s so clear and blue it could be the Caribbean—but this is Panama’s other shore. This is the tropical Pacific.

There’s a small but vibrant expat community along the coast here. People from the U.S. and Canada… and from as far afield as Russia. The first couple I meet is from South Africa. They run the Boca Chica Bay Eco Lodge, which I booked purely for the view. And it does not disappoint. There’s a patio and small infinity pool where you can take in the bay, its gleaming blue water pooling around green-tufted islets. Sunset and sunrise are spectacular.

Life here is all about being on the water, so after a huge breakfast, I head out for an island tour. Joining me is a couple from Austria, a trio of women (two from Panama and one from Argentina), and two more South Africans. A friendly little crowd.

The Gulf of Chiriquí and its islands are part of the country’s ocean park system. (Panama has protected 54% of its total marine area—more than any other country in Latin America.) It’s home to Coiba Island and known as Panama’s Galapagos. Think world-class diving next to a fishing mecca. Here you can see bottlenose dolphins, giant golden seahorses, and harlequin shrimp. It’s like something out of a James Cameron film, but vividly, intensely real.

Today my destination is not Isla Coiba—there are many others to explore. My favorite is the wee island of Bolaños, where we find a slip of a white sand beach framed by rocky outcroppings and a micro jungle. The water by the shore is baby blue and so clear that when I snap a photo of a fishing boat, it appears to be suspended in mid-air.

As we make our final approach, a snorkeler drifts into view. There are only a few people here, so it feels like our own private island. There are no lounge chairs, no cabanas… when we leave, I imagine it will look like it did a thousand or even 10,000 years ago.

Just 40 miles from Boca Chica, Las Lajas has a different kind of beauty. The little town has charm, with its small park square and a sweet little Spanish style church. The beach, six miles south of town, is a vast expanse of deep gold bordered by a long and often flat strip of blue. It has room for hundreds, and can get very busy on holidays—it’s one of Panama’s best and safest public beaches.

Most days are peaceful and quiet, though. If you yearn for big skies and sweeping vistas, come to Las Lajas. Like Boca Chica, it still has a remote feel. There’s no fancy supermarket, just a few general stores and restaurants (a nightlife hub it is not). But there’s a nice little community here—local residents and weekenders, along with expats from Canada, the U.S., Germany, Italy, Switzerland, and more. And it’s close enough to David that you can make weekly supermarket runs.

What’s Challenging About Chiriquí

Like most warm, tropical expat destinations, Chiriquí has its pros and cons. It gets a lot of sunshine, but it also gets a lot of rain—up to 100 inches a year in the mountains and about half that at sea level.

“Yes, challenges abound. Electricity is improving, but is still unreliable, and it isn’t uncommon to be without power for a few hours each week,” says Canadian expat Doris Bercarich. “But I wanted a moderate climate, not too hot, so the mountain region seemed perfect for me. Once there, we fell in love with the breathtaking scenery, the hiking, and the people.”

Christine concurs. “It’s a developing region, so in many ways moving here was like going back in time,” she says. “But a positive side of being in a developing country is that it’s always getting better. I’m amazed at the increase of desirable items available in the local stores in the three years I’ve been here.”

“It’s a pretty simple lifestyle,” says Doris. “But it’s immensely satisfying; you live in the moment.”

Which Chiriquí Town Is Right for You?

Your lifestyle will depend on which part of Chiriquí you choose. Most expats go for convenient, active Boquete. But Volcán is catching up. The roads look great… I had reliable internet at my Airbnb… and I found fine wines, cheeses and more at the top two grocery stores. (For $67 a night, I got a two-bedroom cottage with a kitchen, terrace, and jawdropping views of Volcán Barú, Panama’s highest peak.)

For a soft landing and extra expat support, choose Boquete or Boca Chica. For adventure and untapped opportunities, I like Volcán and Las Lajas.

No matter where you decide to plant roots and grow, the province is yours to explore. It’s a happy little microcosm where you can find everything from magic mushrooms to pickleball courts to some of the best hospitals outside this nation’s capital. All you have to do is ask around. (For the record, I’d advise against buying any illegal drugs while you’re here.)

During an early visit, Doris stayed at an expat-run Airbnb and struck up a conversation with her hosts. They told her about a hiking group and a women’s group. “From these, I formed some very special friendships,” she says. I’ve tapped that same expat grapevine many times over the years, looking for tips and recommendations. People have been kind and generous with their advice.

“There are many ways I can describe Chiriquí,” says Doris. “I can speak to the lushness of the mountains, the almost limitless expanse of a myriad shades of green, dotted with ripening, glossy red coffee beans. Or the smell of the grasses after a thunderstorm, that reminds me of what the world smelled like when I was five years old… The cacophony of exotic bird sounds at dawn and dusk, and the buzz of iridescent hummingbirds, speeding by on their way to find nectar.

“But what makes it special to me is the people. In my brief time here, I’ve met kindred spirits who have welcomed me and helped me find my place among them. We’ve sipped margaritas together, wrangled tarantulas (ok, they did this for me), and spent many hours laughing. At the end of the day, I put my feet up, look around the tiny paradise I’ve found, and think: What could be better?”