Tica through to Panama

---

Saturday 13th December we boarded our first bus to Costa Rica. The journey went smoothly enough, bar the border crossing where we were held up for several hours in back to back traffic. We got a little concerned about missing our connecting bus but had luckily opted for eight hours leeway rather than one hour, the suggested option.

San Jose Tica Bus station was less than remarkable and we had a good six hours to kill so went out in search of money, food and a little light entertainment, in that order. We found a cab and asked him to take us to the nearest cash point, retrieved some Costa Rican ‘colones,’ made a quick guestamate of their value and then overpaid our taxi driver by about $25. The journey itself cost less than a dollar.

Quick to realise our mistake we ate frugally and bad temperedly in two different eating establishments. James had planned to surprise me with a vegetarian restaurant he had found in the ‘Lonely Planet’ and so took me there anyway, and then took himself off to a fast food chicken place not able to tolerate veggie food and a bad temper. We then returned to the miserable and cold bus station to wait for our next 15 hour bus, viewing some Costa Rican Christmas festivities along the way.

The first half of the second bus journey went well... we slept well, grateful of my sleeping bag on the over air conditioned bus and struggled to alight at 5.30am when we reached the border. Our reluctance justified as we were still waiting at 7am for the Costa Rican border office to open. By around 8am we were through and nearing 10am we were back on the bus crossing the Panamanian terrain to the infamous canals of Panama City.

Our joy at finally arriving in Panama City was soon dampened as we quickly discovered that affordable accommodation in this metropolis was not easy to come by. Guide book recommended hostels were either full, had moved, or had been reduced to a few remaining structural pillars since the 2007 edition of the ‘Lonely Planet’ was printed. After an infuriating and expensive taxi ride (with a driver who neither knew the hostels, nor the roads on which they were situated) we got out at the equivalent to London’s Knightsbridge, exasperated. After several hours of talking non-sensical Spanish to locals and gringos alike, sitting in the same spot with our bags like tramps outside a luxurious looking Japanese restaurant, we heard about a few hostels on the other side of the district. Heaving our heavy bags back onto our weakened backs we walked somewhat dejectedly to the area in which these hostels were supposed to be. There, we were not surprised to find a sign tacked to a tree describing that said hostel had moved to the other side of town and we simply had to get a taxi (for about $5 each). Fat chance. Then, as if by magic, our luck turned and a local man appeared from the shadows and informed us of a nice cheap hostel on the parallel road, that went by the name of the hostel we had been looking for for the last two hours. And he was not lying.

We had a crap meal and spent our first night in a dorm room. The dorm was surprisingly OK. Maybe it’s time we get over our snobbish private room mentality? This time we certainly didn’t have the choice.
The following morning James woke me up with fresh coffee and croissants, and then we made our way to the airport.. on route to Columbia.

---