The First Step

Everything started with a trip on the Clipper to downtown Seattle, my first time even though I grew up in Victoria and took every other ferry off Vancouver Island at least once. Now that I've done it I wouldn't do it again if I could avoid it. The trip was doubled in time by waiting at the harbour in Victoria before setting off and then waiting again at the wharf in Seattle to clear US customs. After that it was an easy walk to the Green Tortoise hostel that Craig had recommended.

We walked around Seattle for a bit the next day before our flight to LA in the evening and our next flight to San Jose, Costa Rice via a stopover in El Salvador where we ate Subway in the airport. I was so tired after the overnight flight from LA that I hadn't realized it was my first meal outside of North America and I spent the rest of the wait feeling sick to my stomach because I was convinced that the chopped lettuce and tomatoes had been washed in Hepatitis-ridden water.

We landed in San Jose in the late morning and wasted a bunch of time at the airport trying to find the office of a small airline that supposedly had flights to David, Panama. The airline didn't really have an office and we ended up asking all the small airlines, couriers and other companies with offices there until one said that they coordinated flights for the airline, but the flight for today had already left and there wasn't another for two days. That was Plan A out the window since we had hoped to get to David and meet up with Andrew as quickly as possible to arrive at the same time as Craig, who was coming from Columbia.

Plan B was to find a bus from San Jose to David or Paso de Canoas - the Panamanian bordertown -from downtown San Jose. A taxi driver pointed us to the airport bus stop and we got on the first bus that was heading for downtown. Once on the bus we realized we had no idea where the bus was going or where we wanted to go. An Aussie girl on the bus that was in San Jose to take Spanish lessons sort of knew where she was going and helped us figure out the fare. We jumped out at a central square in town and using a map from the Aussie girl we headed on foot for the bus terminal. No street signs meant we were soon unsure of where we were. First we flagged down a passing gringo but he wasn't sure where to go. He also offered us a map of the city from his pocket.

We tried to ask a old woman shopkeeper for help when we were buying a water, but she didn't speak English and we didn't speak any Spanish, and it was a chore just to pay the right amount for the water so we headed out randomly again. I eventually asked a guy just hanging out on the sidewalk in what seemed to be a market area. He was eager to help but also spoke no English but with the map from the Aussie girl and a lot of body language we got going on the right direction.

We got to the bus stop and spotted a hostel on our way. But once at the terminal a taxi driver told us that the bus to Panama doesn't leave from that station anymore and the hostel we spotted was dangerous and we would probably get robbed. I talked back and forth with him for a bit cause I didn't believe anything he said. He wanted to take us for a wild ride to catch a bus that had left already, claiming that he knew the driver and could stop it for us.

The prospect of getting on a bus for Panama as quickly as possible won out and we ended up jumping into the cab and took off for a 20 km ride to a smaller town on the outskirts of San Jose where we could intersect the bus. After sitting at the side of the road in a sweltering cab and a greedy cab driver the bus showed up, but after paying an outrageous price for the cab ride we didn't have enough cash for the bus ride. After hearing this the bus driver and his assistant immediately went to take our bags out of the luggage compartment. I stalled them with questions about credit cards and traveler's cheques until a local passenger piped up and offered the idea that we could pay the fare after getting money out of an ATM at a restaurant that we would stop at along the way to Panama. With that settled we jumped on the bus and slouched in to our seats under what seemed like the hateful gaze of the other passengers that just wanted to get the 8-hour bus ride on its way.

The movie showing on the bus was The Pursuit of Happyness, and it seemed oddly prophetic to me as Will Smith ran around with no money just as I was running around Central America with no money and no clear idea about where any future funds could be coming from. I was obviously overreacting to the strong portrayal of despair put forth by the Fresh Prince because when we got to the restaurant stop I got out a bunch of cash, paid the bus driver, and had a big feast of chicken and rice with a couple of sodas with Mary Beth.

The border crossing was a big nuisance. We got off the bus in Costa Rica to get an exit visa, walked a couple hundred yards to go through a lengthy entrance process for Panama. A young guy that attached himself to us to aid in the process kept saying that not having proof of onward travel from Panama would be a problem. I knew that we could just flash a decent amount of traveler's cheques to show proof of adequate funds, so I ignored him and only gave the small change out of my pocket when he asked for a tip before we got back on the bus.

The whole Panama border are seemed like a make-work project to me. We had to go to a different representative at a different window for each step. One for passport inspection, then on to the visitor visa window for the $5 visa, then a $1 stamp from the municipality, back to the passport verification window to see if we got all our stamps and proof of onward travel (or adequate funds as we showed), then finally to get our bags inspected. After all the tedious steps of the process I thought the search would be just as long when the agent asked to open my bag. But then he just sort of looked at it patted it down and let us go. Back on the bus and on our way to David.

We got to David much faster than I thought it would take. A quick 45-minutes later we found ourselves across the street from a T.G.I. Fridays and a shopping mall. It took me a few tries on the payphone to figure out how to properly dial Andrew's cellphone number, and when it finally worked I got his voicemail. After twenty minutes of waiting to see if Andrew would check his messages we called a hotel and found out how to get a taxi there. During the taxi ride we received a mango from the guy riding shotgun, who I assumed was just another passenger that ended up sharing the cab with us.

We booked a room with a fan and a hot shower and crashed out for the night, after I left Andrew another message telling him where we were. I also apologized for calling him in the middle of the night since my watch had stopped during the bus ride (and we had entered a new time zone) and I had no idea what time it was. The next morning I was awoken by a phone call from Andrew, he was in the lobby waiting to pick us up.