Into Panama

Last day in Manuel Antonio - Sage and I spent the day on the beach relaxing and surfing. It's been a while since the last time I surfed, but I picked it up again quick enough. It was a lot of fun. I went into Quepos town to buy a bus ticket for the next day back to San Jose, but the morning bus was already sold out, leaving only the noon bus open. I bought that ticket, but it would mean that I might miss my connecting bus to Puerto Viejo, and I reallly didn't feel like staying in the capital again.

I got up late the next day and made it down to town for my bus. I got wrapped up in reading Tai Pan, and the four hour trip to San Jose was easy. Sure enough, by the time I caught a taxi to the connecting bus terminal, it had already left, so I bought a ticket to the farthest town down the Caribbean coast as possible - Puerto Limon.

It was dark when I arrived, and all the information I had read recommended that you try anything to arrive during the daytime -- not the safest city in Costa Rica. I sought out the only other backpacker on the bus - an Australian kid named Jack - and we banded together to find a place to stay. I'm pretty sure we ended up staying in a brothel, but it was cheap and we didn't get robbed, so I can't complain.

We took the early bus the next morning to the Panamanian border down a winding coastal road through banana plantations and jungle --- it REALLY made me wish I had a motorcycle. I've decided that traveling by motorcycle is the absolute best way to see a place. You get a full panoramic view of the landscape, you can interact with the locals more, and you have infinite freedom. Buses suck.

Crossing the border was actually fairly pleasant. It was by far the most relaxed border I have crossed on this trip. There was only one guy trying to rip everyone off, and we avoided him without too much hassle. We walked across the creaky bridge separating the two countries and stopped in front of the Costa Rica-Panama plaque to take a picture, then continued to immigration on the other side. In order to enter the country you need to have proof of onward travel, and luckily, I had printed out a copy of my flight itinerary so I went right through. Everyone else though had to buy a fake and expensive bus ticket back to Costa Rica -- basically a bribe.

The guy that was trying to rip us off had successfully herded all the rest of the backpackers into his van like cattle so that he could charge us ridiculous prices for dropping us off at the ferry docks. Being naturally skeptical in these kinds of situations, I asked around and found another van for a fraction of the price (it's really great to speak Spanish!!). I went back to the other van to tell everyone, and they all switched vans while the driver wasn't looking . We sped away in the cheap van while the other guy chased after us yelling and shaking his fist - sucker.

I met tons of interesting characters on my way to Bocas del Toro: a few Swedes, a bunch of Americans, and two Dutch girls - all traveling different parts of Latin America for anywhere from 2 weeks to 6 months. The boat ride out to the islands was absolutely beautiful. We motored our way through a mangrove forest that opened up to a Caribbean bay, where we passed brightly painted wooden huts and houses built on stilts over the water.

When we pulled up to the dock at the main town, we weren't harassed by anyone! I was blown away. We all headed to the two cheapest hostels in town to look for dorm rooms, but everything was full. The first place we found with rooms wanted to charge us $90 a night - no thanks. Jack and I split off from the main group with the two Dutch girls, and we wandered around the back streets trying to find a low key hostel before the rest of the hoard got to it first. A European expat came over and started chatting with us and offered us some advice. He listed the cheapest hostels he knew of, which we had already tried - all full - and then he apologized in advanced for pitching his own hostel and told us that he could give us hammocks at his place across the river for $5 a night. I have NEVER been to a place where locals will stop on the street to help you find a place to stay and not rip you off, even suggesting other places before their own if it works better for you. Amazing.

We ended up staying at another place he suggested on the main island - a very basic shack on stilts over the water that had a few dorm beds open. The 80 year old Panamanian woman who owned the place - Doña Oti - gave us the grand tour. There was a shared kitchen, lots of interesting backpackers, and a dock over the water with hammocks looking out toward the Caribbean - $6 a night. Perfect.

I'm out of internet time now, but I'll write more in the next few days.