Advertisement
Although it´s only 50km or so from Bocas del Toro to the border with Costa Rica, the journey took about 2 hours. Not only did we have to take a water taxi back to the mainland but the roads are unbelievably bad in this part of the country. Still, we managed to negotiate a good price for a private taxi rather than schlepping all the way by bus, so while the ride was bumpy at least it was air-conditioned.
We´d been told that the border itself was a fairly makeshift affair involving a decript old bridge across the river that marks the end of Panama and the beginning of Costa Rica. The guidebooks even suggest that those of a nervous disposition should pay one the local children to take their bags across to make the journey less perilous. Other people we´d spoken to who´d already made the crossing used words like ´sketchy´, ´scary´ and ´don´t look down´, all of which made me expect a rickety old rope-bridge. So it came as quite a pleasant surprise to find that it´s actually made of iron. Ok, so it´s about 150 years old and obviously hasn´t been maintained since the day it was
constructed (there are alarming gaps in the wooden slats that form the foot-passenger section) but the sight of great big juggernauts crossing it, albeit gingerly and one at a time, gave me confidence that it was unlikely to collapse under the weight of me and my pack.
We´d also heard horror stories about the immigration officials on both sides of the river so we allowed plenty of time and put aside some money to grease the wheels of bureaucracy. In the end, though, our passports were perused and stamped with perfunctory disinterest on both sides of the river and we found outselve in Costa Rica within 20 minutes of leaving Panama.
A two-hour bus ride later and we were in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, a small village on the Caribbean cost, surrounded by lush forest on one side and good surfing beaches on the other. Much like Bocas Del Toro, it´s a popular destination for back-packers travelling the corridor between San Jose and Panama, as well as those seeking an alternative life-style (by which, of course, I mean hippies - both those trying to recapture the 60´s and those who wish they´d been there in the first place).
Aaah! How cute is he?
But don't kiss this one - he's poisonous Despite, or perhaps because of this, it´s very under-developed and, thankfully, doesn´t feel at all touristy. Although every other building is a foreign-owned restaurant or hotel, they´re all small, independently run places whose owners have obviously chosen the area for a reason and go out of their way to retain the vibe that attracted them in the first place. As a result, anybody who stays in the village can feel like they´re on the authentic backpacking circuit but can still enjoy the benefits of warm showers and great food!
We got very lucky because the hotel we were supposed to stay in mucked up our booking and the only other place we could find was a significant step up the budget ladder. Not only we did all get beautiful rooms, with a fridge, private bathroom and showers bigger than my kitchen at home, but we also got a verandah each, complete with hammock. Not too shabby!! Having arrived tired and very hungry about 3.30pm, our first task after checking in was to find somewhere to eat, so on Dawna´s recommendation we headed for a small place called Jammin´. Run by a lovely American lady called Tina, Jammin´is a tiny
This is the life!
Our hotel in Puerto Viejo. restaurant down on the beach that serves the most fantastic Jamaican-inspired food and fresh fruit/veg juices. For the equivalent of about ₤6 I had fresh pineapple juice, a massive chunk of fish marinated in ginger, lime and coconut milk, a dish of Alabama slaw (no idea what was in it but it was absolutely delicious), a taco and rice. An absolute steal and the best meal of the trip so far.
As in Bocas del Toro, it was very difficult to rush and tear about like tourists in Puerto Viejo, it would have felt somehow unseemly. So we abandoned ourselves to the slow pace of life and except for a leisurely, if painful, bike ride (bumpy roads, hard saddle, you do the math) 18km along the coast to Manzanillo and back, most my time in the village was spent in my hammock, trying to read but mostly just watching the world go by.
On Tuesday, we had to tear ourselves away from the coast and head four and a half hours back inland to the capital city, San Jose. After a few hours of swelteringly hot bus-ride, we began to climb higher into the mountains again. As the cloud came down (or rather as we went up to meet it) the temperature dropped markedly and by the time we arrived in San Jose, it was decidedly fresh. Surrounded by glowering, cloud-shrouded mountains, San Jose isn´t a particularly loveable city and it has a pretty bad rep for crime - certainly I´ve never seen so many barred windows or so much razor wire in my life - but our reason for being there was more practical than touristy as we have to pick up a new guide and ten more passengers before heading further up country and onto phase two of the trip.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.052s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 11; qc: 30; dbt: 0.0237s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb