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I bid farewell to Boquete, Panama early in the morning on the 5th, deciding I would take the local bus from the small town of Boquete into David, the main transfer point on the northern part of Panama and where I had gone the previous day to purchase my Tracopa Bus ticket to San Jose. The hostel owner, who spoke good English and had lived in the States for a while saw me off in the morning and directed me to the bus on the corner. I was thinking I would fork over the cash for a taxi into David, but ultimately glad I saved the cash. I got onto the bus around 6:45AM and put my backpack behind the last seat of the school bus. We then worked our way down the road that is basically a straight shot from Boquete to David. Now, we still made numerous stops to pick up people along the way, but otherwise it was pretty uneventful. The bus had a good number of people (all locals, no gringos except me!) on it but it was never filled like crazy as you sometimes envision when you see TV shows of the bus full of people and others hanging off the side, etc. With stops along the way, we made it to David bus terminal around 7:50AM, and I worked my way to the office where I bought my ticket. David bus station is clearly geared primarily to locals, as well as the city. There's some signs to direct you but not all that many if you're not ready to ask. The food and shops were ranged from gritty to basic, nothing anywhere near fancy here. I did get a bottle of water and a Snickers bar, which seemed to be a good bet for breakfast as compared to any options in restaurants. There is frankly little reason to spend more time than necessary in David for the tourist. It's primarily just a dusty town that happens to have a large number of people in it with various storefronts all geared to locals. The city is growing and has a few larger "big-box" stores that I would guess are catering to the gringos in Boquete, but otherwise a forgettable city.
Anyway, time rolled on and while waiting by the Tracopa office I saw a lady who appeared to be also waiting for the bus to San Jose. I summoned the courage to ask in Spanish if she was going to San Jose, to which she said yes. It ended up that we were one of five people who would start this trip on this bus. Also, the lady ended up sitting next to me on the trip (by coincidence as it was assigned seating). As she spoke really only Spanish, I got the chance to practice my Spanish and, with her talking slowly and clearly, managed to have some conversation. She would also be of great assist when we reached la Frontera, or the border of Panama and Costa Rica.
The beginning part of the ride was uneventful but generally nice, other than I wasn't thrilled there was no A/C. That said, it wasn't unbearable as the heat normally present in David hadn't built up in the morning thus far and there was a nice breeze when the bus was moving. The bus rolled along the modern and well-kept highway to the border and we picked up one or two people along the way, though this bus was only stopping at scheduled and specific stops for passengers much like Greyhound would do, no flagging down anywhere along the road for this bus. We then reached the border. I had inquired online as to what was the best option for buses on this route; it appeared there was two. The first is to do what I did, take one bus direct to San Jose. The other option was take a more local bus that went only to the border and then walk across the border to pick up another bus to San Jose. Those who argued for the latter option said either way you have to "donkey" across the border so why bother with the Tracopa bus anyway with a specific schedule? I suppose they may have some point, but I was just as well taking the one bus the whole way. It is basically the same procedure either way, so why not just take one bus and be done with it?
Anyway, at the border it gets a little confusing for this gringo unaccustomed to the procedure. The bus first stopped at the Panama Customs/Migration office and everyone gets off with all their belongings. I took my bag I always carry, my "man-purse", if you will but stuff I never much let out of my sight while traveling (such as this computer and my glasses that I may need to see with if everything disappeared), plus my camera bag with me. I then had to get my backpack from under the bus. We then went into a room with tables and waited...and waited. Finally, some guy walks and asks where everyone is from, though asks it so fast I don't understand what he said. I show him my passport which obviously answers his question. Presumably, the migration people reserve the right to inspect bags, but they decide to not really inspect any bags. We all then get to put our big suitcases/backpacks back under the bus. Next is walking to the window to get our exit stamp on our passports. Another episode of waiting in line and paying $1.00 for some stamp on my tourist card I paid $5 for when entering Panama at the airport, which I hand over to the agent and am done with. Anyway, after a minute of looking at my passport and doing whatever he does behind the window, he stamps my passport and I'm done at this window. However, Perla, my friend on the bus has already wandered away. I'm not sure where to go next...while standing and deciding what is next, I do some quick observation. There isn't much to really stop and see, even if I felt I had time. Apparently, there is a duty-free zone here with bargains to supposedly be had, but looking at the mish-mash of stores and buildings I don't see anything I have need to buy, even if I had luggage space. While here, I get approached by a gringo-looking guy who gives me a similar story I heard in Quito: Are you an American? I fell on hard times and could you help out with buying some food? I have ID and even know about movies like Fargo (after I mention I'm from Minnesota and obviously Fargo is in Minnesota, right?) I was skeptical with this guy and walk away like I did in Quito. Later, I would wonder though: while I think I was more justified in my skepticism in Quito where there were plenty of people who speak English, plenty of opportunity for someone just trying to get handouts from all the gringos coming and going, and all sorts of embassies within walking distance if you truly do need help, why would you sit on the Panama-Costa Rica border trying to get a handout? There's few gringos passing through and little reason to spend time there if you don't have to. I did suggest he call the embassy, though he said he had no money to do that. Not sure of the answer on whether to be skeptical or hand over some cash, at least to make that call to the embassy.
Anyway, I eventually went up to one of the other busmates and asked in my best Spanish, "Donde vamos?", where do we go? The lady was nice enough and got a Tracopa bus employee to get me to the Costa Rica migration office and got me to the spot for my entry stamp. It did cost me a requested $1 tip, but I guess it's not much different than what you'd give a bellman - and the guy was pretty nice about helping me. Anyway, the people at this office didn't seem to be in any hurry to walk up to the window and when they eventually did spent some time processing my passport before putting the entry stamp on it. It was a free entry into the country, however, so that's nice. Anyway, around this point I saw Perla in an area that was basically caged off other than entry doors. Perla motioned me into there, where I went. We waited, waited, waited, waited and eventually our bus rolled up in front of us after another bus of people finally left. Perla mentioned I would need my backpack from the bus, to be inspected by Costa Rican migration before leaving this area. In this area there were additional concrete stands for searching bags. Anyway, I went and got them, trusting Perla with my "man-purse" and camera bag. I felt safe to do this as she had gone at some length warning me about San Jose and to be careful, don't take your camera out, etc. Anyway, when I went to get my backpack the bus driver asked for my passport. I felt more than a little uneasy handing it over as you hear all the horror stories of what to do if it should disappear...the guy I walked away from being cold-hearted and I would suddenly become buddies, right? I tried to ask Perla if this was normal and she said it was okay. I also felt somewhat better when everyone handed over their passports...this was apparently normal but what if mine disappeared? After more waiting in this area that was quickly getting warm from the sun hitting the metal roof, an agent came out and entered the caged area, closing the cage door behind her. We were now to be in lines and a couple of the agents started going through passports calling names. People would then go up and the agents may ask to search bags. It was mostly perfunctory and usually they didn't inspect much. When my name was called, the agent hardly spent any time looking at bags. I opened the camera bag and carry-on bag but she barely looked. I then went to open my backpack and got as far as the top little layer of clothes kept separate and she motioned it was okay. I closed everything up and with passport now safely back in hand proceeded back to the bus. Frankly, while I would never think of trying to get something illegal across as in these countries you can pretty much kiss your life outside of prison goodbye for doing that, I could have done it this time and gotten away.
Ultimately, it's not an overly pleasant process, though I probably worried more than needed just because it was unfamiliar and in an area that wasn't particularly attractive to be in. I was definitely glad I had Perla nearby as she helped direct a little - though I would have eventually figured it out. At this point, there were a bunch of new passengers who apparently went to the border on other buses and then picked up the Tracopa bus. We soon headed out towards San Jose, making two stops - one for lunch and one for bathroom. I always do what I absolutely have to do as quickly as possible for fear this would be the time I'd be left behind and truly stuck in the middle of nowhere - at least for this gringo. I'm sure it's an unfounded fear, but the one I have had on these buses.
After 8 hours, we arrived in San Jose, though Perla had departed a little earlier. She gave me her email address and asked I email to let her know I made it safe (which I have done). The bus station was generally fine, though I had a little adventure. I needed to call the hostel for a pickup, even though it was only four blocks away. Obviously, I wasn't sure which four blocks to walk. After asking in my poor Spanish how much was the phone and getting change in colones (this is the first country I have had to change money...Panama and Ecuador use the US Dollar as the official currency), I went to the phone. They gave me change but actually weren't sure how much it was for a call. Turns out why is because they don't accept coins, you have to use a card that you can buy at the station. Anyway, after figuring this out and losing 25 colones into the phone (which is about $.05 in USD), I go buy a card. I then figure I insert the card into the slot to use it. No luck, you scratch the side and then have to dial numbers. I figure this all out and get a hold of the hostel. I'm told to wait there and the guy will arrive shortly. He doesn't arrive and I eventually call back. Now it's a lady who doesn't speak English so I manage to get enough Spanish out to remind her I'm still here. I figure out to wait some more from her direction. I wait and still no luck. I finally call back and the guy returns to the phone apologizing as he went to a different station. However, there's taxis nearby and I get the driver on the phone to get directions. The station actually was close and after a long day I arrive at the hostel, having paid a probably exorbitant $4 for the short ride - though I was tired and didn't really care at this point.
It was a long day and perhaps more adventure than maybe I wanted...or maybe I did want it. I could have flown (though at 10 times the price). However, it was good to see and be able to conquer this part of the trip. It will be good training for the drive to Nicaragua, right?
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Eric
non-member comment
Do you know the way to San Jose
Hey Gary...about a week ago Garrison Keillor did a "News from Lake Woebegon" story on his radio show about a couple from Lake Woebegon heading to California to visit a relative. The relative lived in San Jose, California. When the couple arrived at the MSP airport the husband accidentally pressed the Spanish language button on the self service ticket kiosk. He knew a little spanish so he proceeded on. There were two listings for San Jose under "destinations" and he just pressed the second one. Long story short the couple from Lake Woebegon wound up in the San Jose you are now headed to. They quite enjoyed it...they chased a bird through a jungle and onto a beach. They went skinny dipping and a monkey stole their pants and their camera. They figured out they were not in California, but they got there eventually. Their relative noted that they were quite late in arriving. In true Minnesota fashion they just said, "Oh, you know...there were some delays." I just liked the story and thought of you when I heard it. Have fun in San Jose and watch out for the monkeys! Eric