Uvita to David

Breakfast followed by a quick packing and room inspection was followed by a quick peck on Josephina's cheek, the woman who has been bringing me breakfast poolside for the last eleven days. I don't even have to walk into the restaurant she noticed me at the table and brought coffee unsolicited, sure that I would never turn it down. What a great place, I will have to write up a tripadvisor report.

8:00 Walking to bus terminal, except I don't know where it is and I never asked. It's a small town when I get close I'll ask; it can't be hard.

A few minutes after I arrived at a the bus stop I met a Norwegian guy in his mid forties
"Que hora pora bus hasta Palmar Norte?" What time is the bus to Palmar Norte?
"8:40" English!

8:45As I tried to board the conductor held his hand, not saying a word.

"Quento Questo?" How much does it cost?
"Hasta?" To where?
"Palmara Norte."
"mil quinientos" One thousand five hundred Colones.

Three 500 colone coins were tendered.

The bus had three seats on the left side of the narrow aisle and two seats on the right. I walked across the street and talked

It was difficult to walk my pack exceeded the width of the aisle but I finally managed to make back to a row with three adjacent unoccupied seats. I put my back pack on one, may day pack on another and took the aisle seat.

The Norwegian takes a seat net to a middle aged not very attractive tico woman, although there are plenty of unoccupied seat pairs. Within fifteen minutes she is examining the crown of his nearly shaved head, puts his hand around his shoulder and gives him a kiss on the forehead. It looks like a sympathy kiss. Just another mystery of travelling.

9:20 Thirty people board standing in the aisles. I move my day pack on top of my back. The conductor wants to fit it on the overhead shelf. The only way he could pull that off would be to jam the big SLR camera through the cover of the computer. No way I am going to let that happen. I moved over a seat and an old man takes the seat next to me with part of his right cheek hanging out into the aisle.

More people board. Pressed flesh to flesh in an unairconditioned bus. I contemplate offering my seat to one of women stating in the realized that no good deed goes unpunished and that something could easily be removed from my pack. Even worse I would be pinned between her two daughters, my crotch bumping into the back of the younger girls head while her sisters face would be banging into my ass.

9:48 People disembark in droves. The old man vacates his seat. A cute tico girl takes his place. She would obviously lean into me than the asses in the aisle. Ok, this is getting awkward, you're seventeen and rubbing me from leg to shoulder with the side of your body. Worse things have happened. Think pure thoughts.

10:30 I fought my way down the aisle passed the people that would be resuming, wearing a pack. It was an effort with no people in the aisles, now it was a battle. People boarding the bus cluster around the doorway, presumably fighting to get on for the seats so they don't have to sit in the aisle. No orderly queuing down here. Now how the hell am I supposed to get through all of you to step down off the bus? The sun was bright in my eyes, I reached up to pull down my... dammit, left the hat on the bus. This time I just barged past the queue, pushing them, urgently trying to get on the bus before the aisle were so crowded they could not be navigated. I put my daypack on the console and explained, "Regresso, solo necessito mi Sombrero", which probably means nothing. I looked in occupied seats next to the windows in the middle of the bus. After I asked a couple of people if they had seen my sombrero, the woman who had been sitting in front of me pointed behind her. I stuck out my hand to the kid who had denied having seen one, he sheepishly pulled it out from under the seat where he had hidden it.

I found the ticket office.

"Que hora pora bus haste David, Panama?" What time is the bus?
"No."
"Como?" Excuse me?
"No."
"Este bus hasta Fronterra?" Is there a bus to the border?
"Si" Yes
What the F**k, could you be a little less helpful?
"Necessito otro pora David?"Do I then need another bus for David?"
"Si."
"Que hora este?" What time is it?
"Manana" Tomorrow WTF?
"Primera bus este no hoy?"The next bus is not today?
"Once" Elevent
"Hoy?" Today?
"Si." Wow this woman says less than Helen Keller
"Yo necessito compare billete hasta Fronteras"In need to buy a ticket to the border
"En el autobús"On the bus.


So I sat and read on a concrete bus bench in the tropical sun, no shade was provided.

Hungry, I hit a soda, a small cafe that serves typical cuisine. I ordered something I had never heard of before as a comidas, which is as previously explained the meat course served with a salad, rice, beans and sometimes yucca. Five minutes later, my liver and onions was served. Far more food than I could eat, I skipped the rice. 2,300 colones, about five dollars.

8,000 colones in coins were traded in for bills. The quick way to lose a few pounds.

The eleven o'clock bus showed up at 11:44 followed very short by hawkers incessantly enumerating their products, each flavor of juice in a little plastic bag is separately announced, the fried goods, they work on out announcing one another in louder and louder voices.

As I tried to board the conductor just looked at me, not saying a word. This is getting weird.

"Quento Questo?" How much does it cost?
"Hasta?" To where?
"Fronteras."
"de mil ochocientos" One thousand eight hundred Colones.


I gave him two one thousand notes, he made no gesture as if he was going to give me change. There were people behind me. It's just not worth dicking over 50 cents right now.

I walked to the rearmost seat that was unoccupied. One woman gave me her most unpleasant look, presumably to revile me into taking another seat. I responded by sitting next to her. Both my bags sat in the aisle.

14:09 We are dropped off at the border with no explanation. No indication where customs is, where emigration is, if we are going to continue to Panama for the other side. No customs or immigration forms are provided. Tracopa this is not a class act.

I recalled where the Costa Rica office was from my trip to this spot five months ago. Applause please! I can't find my car in a parking lot. The line moved very slowly each person taking ten minutes. When I got to the front of the queue I was processed in thirty seconds, I guess this was to balance the karma of some of my previous border crossings. If I don't get to an embassy soon and get a bunch of pages added to my passport I won't be allowed to cross borders anymore.

I managed to find the Panama office. Yup, just walk down streets on this porous border until you are in Panama and look for the right building. There was a special queue for indigenous people and several hundred Kunas, all women about four feet tall in their colorful garb, some with children, all girls as I recall. Our queue moved imperceptively.

A bus parked on the curb, four feet from the line and idle, spewing black clouds of diesel exhaust, particulate unburned carbons, carbon monoxide, it was horrendous. People were obviously uncomfortable but didn't want to leave their place in the queue. There were no passengers in the bus, they weren't set to take off, the driver was running his air conditioning. I left the line, walked up to the window and banged, really frigging hard on his window five times. "Muy peligroso, toxico. Vamoose." and pointed at the exhaust. He pulled the bus forward fifty feet, shut it off and got out of the bus and glared at me. The people in line thanked me.

A female tax collector walked my with a little sticker, which must be in my passport before I can have my entry stamp. Standing directly next to me she yelled very loudly to some guy across the street, it was like cannon fire. I gave her a US 10 but she had no change. Not in Panama too now. I gave her a 500 colone coin but she insisted that I give her 600, I should be the one punished that she doesn't have the change.


Only one line was open. After more than an hour I got near the window, I was next. Some guy came up rattling to me in Spanish. I told him I didn't understand him. He cut in line ahead of me. I put my big back right in front of him, then kicked the rear, spinning the bag, banging him with my walking stick. He started talking rapidly to the guys behind me in Spanish. I heard the word "Gringo" and "Americano" from him repeatedly, they guys just smiled bemusedly. I was processed in a couple of minutes. Then he stuck his passporte in the window and said "I'm a Panamanian, we don't have to wait." What the hell? Both what you said and the fact that that you said it in English." I don't know if this is true, but there certainly was no special window for them or any sign indicating this. I replied, "Yo pensionado." I have special residency privileges.

Time to get my bags inspected. Very strange you are supposed to wander down the street, find the building have some form not available at customs and have them inspect your bags. Why not just walk to the bus stop? Oh, they won't check your bags on the bus until they see you exit the customs building. So I went in one door, waited a minute and walked out the other, without having my bags inspected.

Time to change up my money. I had received my colones at the rate of 510 to the dollar. The change guy wanted to sell me dollars for 535 colones apiece. I turned to walk away, he dropped his price to 530, my bus was starting to board. So I counted my money and he did a quick calculation, under crediting me by 10,000 colones when he used his calculator, I had computed it on my own and showed him my number. I counted the money again really slowly for him and entered the calculations on his calculator. He pulled out the equivalent amount in dollars, but tried to short me a twenty. He did everything but give me counterfeit bills.

I hoped on the bus which left three minutes later and found myself in David. After an hour.

Hungry I walked into a chino, a cafeteria style restaurant invariably run by, to no great surprise, the Chinese.

A local ordered fish and rice and paid $2.75. I ordered the same thing and paid, $3.75, I didn't say anything, maybe I misheard what she said to the other guy. The guy behinds me gets charged $2.75 for the same thing. Lot's of people waiting in line, try to embarass the lady to return my buck at the expense of those waiting to eat or not.

A two dollar cab fare took me to the purple house, a hostel. A few people sit facebooking. The owner was very brusque as I started to give myself a self guided tour. This is a four bedroom house, how much explanation is required? "I'll show you where to go, but you have to be behind me." Wow! She is a gringo. The place is very clean home in a funky purple way. The other hostel in town is Bambu, which is akin to sleeping in rural brothers outbuilding next to the tractor.

Young Europeans backpackers flowed in for hours, the backpackers beautiful people began. All friendly and considerate.

"I'm so sorry, do you mind if I turn this light on?" she asked as she wanted to see what was in the book exchange.
"Not at all."
She picked out a book and said "I left my last book on the bus."
"Well, I hope you hadn't started it."
"I know, yes, I was a hundred pages into it, it was really good."