More Hospitals - Navigating the Medical System in the Big City

On Saturday night, I got a message from my friend's mom on facebook that she got a horrible eye infection where a bacteria was eating her cornea and she needed my friend's number in Puntarenas.  I was shocked.  When I left for Panama she was so much better and we thought we had made our last visit to the Quepos hospital.

Well, that night at 1am she and my friend took a taxi all the way to San Jose to go to a hospital where she could get her eye looked at ASAP.  It is a really good thing that they went because the doctor said that depending on how much of the eye was eaten, she could possibly need to have her eye REMOVED.  Yes, as you may imagine we were all super scared. 

I woke up Sunday morning, still in Panama, to messages on facebook asking me where my friends in Heredia lived.  My friends who had left the hospital at 6am had no where to go and the eye drops that had to be administered every 15 minutes needed to be refrigerated.  They told me that hotels didn't allow check in until 2pm and they of course hadn't slept at all.

I tried calling the friends in Heredia, but they didn't answer.  I even called my friend's sister in Tucson to try to get in contact with them.  Nothing.  She couldn't get a hold of them, either. 

My two friends decided to make their way to the house anyway.  My friend with the eye infection remembered where the house was as we had stayed there just two weeks earlier.  One of the many crazy things is that as we were leaving the house when we were on our trip I told her, "Now if you ever need help in San Jose, you know people here."  That sounds like really bad foreshadowing in a book or movie, right? 

So, they showed up at their door and said through the intercom on the gate: "um..... hi.... I need help."

My friends who are really more like family, especially now, took them in and took care of them.

I returned from Panama super stressed and wanting to be there to support my friends.  Luckily I got a 90 day visa this time, no questions asked.  A nice man in the bag check line even gave me a sandwich after I offered to help him watch his bag and randomly explained that I hadn't eaten that day. 

The next day, Monday, I went to work at the high school and then got on a bus to San Jose.  It was time to tag out my friend who had been taking such good care of the one with the eye infection.  Even the process of getting on the bus was difficult (sometimes I wonder why everything here is so weird).  I went to my friend's host family's house to get her some new clothes (this is the same family I lived with for 6 months) and called at the door for someone to open.  The grandmother walked up with her underwear in her hand and tried opening the door.  It turns out they had locked her in and she didn't have a key.  Great......

So, I called my old host sister who sent her husband on bike to open the door.  Mission accomplished.

Then, to the bus - which left 15 minutes earlier than it usually does.... luckily I walked up as it was leaving.

Then, on the bus - the guy sitting next to me told me that his friend had just gotten dengue and then a bacterial infection that was eating her eye, too.  I don't understand how this could be possible.

Ok, so in San Jose we went to the doctor and he said that her eye was a little better but that we had to continue with the drops every half hour day and night... and come back tomorrow... but to a different clinic.  Little did we know we were about to embark on a journey where we  were to follow this doctor to every clinic he worked at in San Jose. 

My Tica friend went home to Quepos and I stayed to take care of my friend. I am so impressed with her calm and her trust that her eye will heal.  She is being so strong.

We continued the routine of drops all day and all night and went to the doctor again on Tuesday.  He said it was getting better, but it would still take a while.

I needed to go back to Quepos, too, because I had already missed 2 days at the HS.  So, I invented a way for her to do the drops herself, even though she couldn't see, based on placement of the thumb, wrist rotation, and muscle memory.  It was super exciting to help her be a little more self sufficient.

One of the remaining things to figure out, though, was who could go with her to the doctor on Thursday.... she couldn't walk around the streets of San Jose like this.  She would be too vulnerable.  I started contacting all the people I knew in the area to see if they could go but nobody could.  My friend called as we were about to leave the doctor and told me that her cousin that studied in San Jose could go.

Whew.... As we needed help, someone always came through.  From finding a place to stay to someone to go to the doctor, there was always someone to help.

It really amazes me that we can be in a country where we have no family and I have only lived her a little over a year, yet there is such a big team of support.  It is incredible, the kindness these friends show and the way that they go so out of their way to care for someone they barely know or have only met once. 

This is truly a testament to the kindness and sense of community that the Costa Rican people can have.  I am very grateful to have such family here. 

Also, I was pretty proud to be able to navigate the city and doctors visits and everything... leading my friend on and off buses, being responsible for her..... all in Spanish, of course.  I definitely could not have done this a year ago. 

Now, here's to my friend's continued recovery and that her eye fully heals as quickly as possible :]  I think she might have the biggest team ever supporting and praying for her.


....So, just as there is always a bus.... there is always a friend or a "primo"....

After a Year....

I finally got up the courage to go to the dentist. 

I think I can now say I officially live here. 

Border Crossings - Why are the Rules Always Changing?

I swear that every time I cross the border there are different rules.  Within one month, the experience can be totally different at the same exact border.

Last time, we got hustled into a van to pay the exit tax.  This time, I couldn't find the van and ended up scanning my passport through a legitimate machine that gave me a receipt.  It turns out, the other people did get hustled into a van and were charged extra for the "service fee."  I found the real machine by accident. Figures.

Then, when we got into Panama they decided they wanted to "check our bag" which was really just a guy demanding you write Tracopa in the line that says flight number (This doesn't even make sense because it is just the bus company name) and then telling you to take your bag.  He did not open a single bag.  Great customs check, Panama - my pineapple slice made it safely through to eat on the other side :] 

A person could have totally just not entered that bag checking room and nobody would have even noticed. 

I just hope that tomorrow my border crossing to CR is more successful than the last time.  Wish me luck!

Boquete - Finding a Sweatshirt and Finding a Friend

Here I am, back in Panama.  You may wonder why since I was just in this country three weeks ago.  Well, when I entered Costa Rica this last time - the man at immigration was in a bad mood or something and only gave me a 30 day visa instead of the standard 90 days.  He wouldn't even tell me why.  He just said, "It's my decision." 

So, I guess you could say I'm exiled right now.  While I was annoyed to have to travel all this way on bus again, it is really nice to be here in a cool climate and on a different type of adventure. 

It reminds me how traveling alone can be not so lonely after all. 

This morning, I went downstairs to get the hostel's free self making pancake breakfast and said hello to a girl who had slept in the bunk above me the night before.  It turns out that she is also traveling alone and was happy to embark on a day of random wanderings with me. 

We started off just walking around town, stopping at any shop that caught our interest.  No schedule and no agenda.  It felt sooo good. 

My friend was looking for a sweatshirt because she is going to do an all night volcano hike tonight and the top is going to be near freezing.  We couldn't find a sweatshirt for sale anywhere.

We stumbled upon this parking lot full of painted rocks that had been made into really interesting sculptures.  We were about to leave when we decided to analyze how these sculptures were made (since my new friend is an archeology major).  I noticed that behind this one sculpture of a woman's butt was a sweatshirt!  I swear that the universe was giving her this gift.  It even smelled good :]  Now she won't be cold.  We laughed and laughed about this find and how perfect it seemed. 

Next, we ended up buying really cool Panamanian looking shoes for 6 dollars and finding another store where everything was only 1.50.  A 1.50 store!  haha!

We also bought some tiles from this woman's tile workshop.  They were beautiful.

Next, we grabbed some good coffee and mamones (my current favorite fruit) and headed up the freeway to a "mirador" that we weren't even sure would be at the top of this road.  It was, though... and we got to see the tiny little town of Boquete. 

We returned to town and started off on another adventure.  We didn't end up making it to our destination, though, because it started pouring.  We did meet this really interesting Panamanian woman who turned her house garden into some sort of tourist stop.  

Now, here I am... sitting on a couch in a sweatshirt and my new shoes, happily writing - which is something I have wanted to do for some time now.  I have soooooooo many stories to catch up on.  Stay tuned.

Oh, and I still need to explain how this border crossing was different, but almost as ridiculous as last time. 

Typical Day in Quepos

Today I tried to go to a contemporary dance workshop but when I got there... The power was out and everyone was sitting in a circle, playing with a baby chicken.... Typical day in Quepos.

What's even more funny and typical, though, is this comment on FB by one of my friends who works at a local hostel:

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  Teatro Copaza Quepos Y no queria pollo. Ja ja ja Mori.

  
  
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  Aurora Frey Sounds like a perfect day!

  
  
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  Lisa Richardson Love it! And you just reminded me of my chicken in the yoga class experience last year. Thank you!

  
  
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  Moriah Flagler What? I want to hear that story

  
  
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  Lisa Richardson LOL! In Bali…yoga class came complete with a chicken in the patio room where we were practicing…occasionally strutting, occasionally just standing and watching.

  
  
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  Samuel Flagler So the dance didn't happen?

  
  
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  Moriah Flagler No.... But then one of the dancers gave "birth" to the baby chicken in the show tonight and then in the black out it just stood there on stage squeeking all alone then someone came and scooped it up and it stopped.

  
  
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  Samuel Flagler neat story..

  
  
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  Moriah Flagler Poor little chicken....

  
  
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  Rebecca Fox I think we had that chicken in Plinio today! The dancers are staying here. We named him Floyd and gave him water from a bottlecap. One of the cleaners took him home to give to her neighbour who keeps chickens

  
  
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  Moriah Flagler Oh good! I was worried about what they would do with him. Hahaha! What a small town! You even know the same chickens as me!!!!! Ridiculous

More of The Adventures of Wall and Face

More Panama, Less Mania by Cara

This is, again, written by my friend Cara.  I just don't see the need to rewrite the story when she is doing such a great job of telling it :]

Our second day in Panama was much less crazy but just as enjoyable.  Moriah and I rented a kayak and struck out across the disturbingly named Bahía de los Muertos (Bay of the Dead).  Thankfully we didn't run across any dead bodies and neither one of us became one either. :P What we did find was beautiful scenery unmarred by scores of sunscreen-slathered tourists.

The next morning, after passing a relaxing day at the hostel on Boca Brava. We packed up to resume our journey. Destination: Bocas del Toro, a popular tourist spot on the opposite side of Panama on the Caribbean Sea.  We had to go back to David to get the bus to Boca Brava and the owner of the hostel, a rather interesting American ex-pat named Brad, happened to be heading to David that morning. He needed to take two of his four puppies and their mother to the vet so we piled into first his boat and then his car with three dogs.  Something about us and dogs, I guess. :P

Another point of God's providence. If we had muddled through trying to figure out the buses to get to David we probably would have missed the bus we needed to make it to Bocas del Toro in one day. This bus carried us through the cool mountains of central Panama which was a welcome respite after the very hot and muggy Pacific Coast.   We got off at Almirante Bay and were ushered into a cab that took us to the dock for our water taxi out to Bocas.  Bocas del Toro and the areas surrounding are actually built out on a archipelago in Almirante Bay.  We had to wait for about 15 minutes at the dock and there were some young men there who were trying to talk to us in broken English.  Annoying stuff like "I wanna be your boyfriend" "I wanna learn English, you teach me?" When we responded back in Spanish they actually became way less annoying.  When we asked them what they were doing there, they responded that they were bothering tourists.  At least they were honest. :P  This was actually pretty common in Panama, anywhere there was a transportation interchange there were small groups of men that would jump up and facilitate the change in a very disorganized manner and with lots of yelling in Spanish and pointing at stuff.  They could also be found outside buses on the streets of Bocas announcing visits to beaches and other attractions. We decided their official job titles were 'Panamanian Hustlers'.  

Also at the dock we met two young Costa Rican men who were traveling from Alajuela (outside of San Jose) and passing through Bocas on their way to Panama City.  Not a whole lot happened with them at this point, other than the fact that Moriah was excited to talk to some Costa Ricans again after having only seen Panamanians the last few days, but they are worth noting as they feature later in the story. 

Finally the boat arrived and the hustlers set to work stowing everyone's luggage and telling people where to sit so they could balance the boat correctly for the roughly 30-minute ride across the bay.  Moriah and I and another slender girl were crammed into the front seat with the driver who was a stern-looking elderly Panamanian man.  Nonetheless I tried to start a conversation with him and he lit up like a kid at Christmas at the fact that we could speak Spanish.  His name was Beldran (sp?) and he got a kick out of how many times we said it so that we could remember it.  This is us crammed on the boat.

Thus we arrived in Bocas del Toro, tired but ready for another day of adventure! 

El Pueblo Que Es Una Familia

I interrupt the story of "Wall and Face" with a story of "El Gran Equipo y El Dengue."

Apparently, somewhere in the adventures of Wall and Face, my friend Cara encountered a mosquito that decided to pass on the lovely Dengue virus to her.  The fact that I didn't get it with how much time we spent together in areas with a high density of mosquitoes is a miracle.

Last Wednesday, Cara called me and asked how I was feeling.  "Fine," I responded, a bit confused.  "Why?"

"I have a fever and my back aches.... I was just seeing if you were sick, too..."

We had joked about getting Dengue with how many misquote bites we got while in Rio Celeste.  The bites were so bad that each one had little blood spots, as you can see on my legs below.

She had a fever for a few days, but we thought it was just a flu.  She was better on Saturday, but I noticed that she had these red bumps that looked more like a rash than bites.  I had totally forgotten that a rash was a symptom of The Dengue...

Sunday, I called her to see how she was doing and she told me that she was at the hospital and that the pharmacy thought she had Dengue.  (That was the pharmacy I work at, by the way).  So, there she is waiting at the hospital.  She had been there for three hours without being called back to the lab to get blood drawn.  I asked her if she wanted me to come, but she said that she didn't... that it would be boring to wait there.

Something didn't feel right to me, though, so as soon as I got off the phone I called our Tica friend, Keilyn.  She said that we needed to go down there and help her and asked me where she was.  When I explained that she had been waiting, Kei immediately called her to explain that she needed to go find the lab and that they were never going to call her from where she was sitting.

That was the beginning of the week long epic hospital tour. I have heard that it is very difficult for immigrants in the US to work through bureaucratic systems or to navigate processes that they are not familiar with... where we think things are normal, but they don't know the rules of the game.  I now understand in much more depth and have empathy for what that must feel like.

Luckily, Kei had the foresight to take me on a hospital tour while we were waiting.  She wanted to make sure that if I ever had to come, I knew how it worked and where all the parts were.  It's a good thing she did, because - let's just say... I now could probably draw an aerial view of the hospital and all of its departments.

Keilyn is so awesome.  She had told her boyfriend's mom that we were there, who called a friend who worked at the hospital.  I don't know if that every did anything, but that was the start of the process.  When they called Cara back, Kei went with her to help translate.  Even though Cara speaks Spanish and was proud of her skills thus far, when you don't feel well speaking and understanding important things can be super stressful.

The guard didn't want to let Kei back with Cara, but Kei would have none of that.  She quietly and confidently had "words" with the guard, explaining that Cara had been waiting for 3 hours in the "Urgencias" because nobody told her where to go and that that wasn't ok and that she WAS going back there with her.  He apologized and let her past.    Go, Keilyn!

We finished the night, moving from department to department... waiting and walking.

Some observations I made of the hospital that night:

The bathroom in the "Urgencias" was dirtier than any other bathroom I had been in in this country.  It didn't even have soap.

The alcohol dispenser outside the bathroom had no alcohol in it.  When I told Kei, she laughed saying it had been empty for like 5 years.

Day 2: 

I woke up to get ready for school on Monday morning and thought I should call to see how Cara was doing.  She told me that she could not even open her eyes and that she couldn't see anything.  She insisted that she could go to the hospital by herself, but this sounded imposable to me.

I called my HS director to tell her that I needed to accompany my friend to the hospital.  She was not happy about this, saying things like - "Can't you go after class?"  I explained that we had to be there by 7 to do the blood draw.  Like Kei, I insisted that I needed to do this and told her that it is scary to be sick and alone in another country and that I needed to do this.  So, I sent her some plans and off to the hospital  I went.

It's a good thing I did, because Cara seemed to be doing pretty badly.  When I arrived she was sitting on a bench with a bandana wrapped over her eyes and sunglasses over that.  As soon as I sat down next to her, the woman next to her brought me up to speed that she had given her mint gum because she had almost fainted in the line.  Our friend Mau's pregnant wife (who's baby shower we had gone to on Saturday) was sitting on Cara's other side... taking care of her.  She had called Mau to see if it was Cara because she was too embarrassed to walk up to her and ask.     The point is, the whole town was already mobilized... taking care of her more than the staff at the hospital was.  A man in line had even saved her place in line so that she could go sit down.  Everyone around kept asking me what was wrong with her (which I found funny because I'm pretty sure people in the US wouldn't ask someone that - personal information!  haha).

I ended up leading her around to each station as if we were doing a trust walk and she was blindfolded.  She was super weak and did not look very good.

Part of the odd process was that we had to go to "validation" before seeing the nurse and then the doctor.  When I got to validation, nobody was there.  The women in the office assured me that she would be there "ahorita," a word I will comment on more in a later post.  I have a whole "Tico Time Timeline" I will post.   As you can imagine, ahorita turned into 45 minutes.  But, finally the lady arrived and ended up being super nice and helpful.

She told me Cara needed to be there (even though the previous woman I asked told me I could represent her so she didn't have to walk as far) so I went back to get her.  The woman put her own Cedula number on Cara's papers so that the next woman would not send us back.  Cara did not have her passport.  The woman called the other department in "El Ebais" to explain that there would be two Gringas coming and what she had done and not to send us back.  She even wrote the woman's name that we were to find next on a post-it for me since I asked at least 5 times to get clarity.

We waited more and then interacted with a gruff nurse who kept interrupting us to talk to random other people who would knock on the door or do other things.

We waited some more and then were blessed with a very nice doctor who told us he called us early because she looked so bad.  Hahaha... all the people sitting on the benches would get up and make room when we walked up and then asked us what was wrong.  Even a nursing woman moved over for us.  Anyway, the doctor spoke English and even took time to talk to our friend, Vivi, on the phone to explain everything to her.  That way, I didn't have to re-tell the whole story in Spanish later. 


We grabbed a collectivo home and Vivi taught me how to make "Agua de Arroz" over the phone.  Apparently, that is what you drink when you are sick in CR.  It is basically just overcooked rice water.  You drain out the rice and serve the water with Cinnamon and sugar. 

Observations from day 2:

If you get an IV in the hospital it is perfectly normal to sit in the hallway of the waiting room with an IV bag attached to the wall above you with a nail.  You may also take selfies while you wait like the man I saw was doing.

The hospital is probably the worst, most stressful, and most uncomfortable place to be when you are sick.  Even merely walking from station to station is super difficult.

Day 3:

Vivi took off work to go with Cara.  Process repeated.  Cara's platelets down more.  If they drop much further, she needs to be admitted.

I visited her at home to cheer her up.

Day 4:

Keilyn's boyfriend was the only one who could go to the hospital.  He did so with such gentleness and caring.  He even carried around her purse :]

Day 5:

It was my turn again.  Thankfully, it was the last time.  Cara could now walk around herself and although she was still weak, she was much better.  He platelets were up enough that she didn't have to go back anymore and everyone at the hospital was so happy!  The woman at validation was soooo happy and squeeled when we came in... saying how much better Cara looked and that she hoped she never saw us there again - that she hoped she saw us in town instead. 

We were super relieved to be done with the hospital and super grateful to have had such a great team to work through this and guide us.  We even had my parents on skype taking her case and giving her a remedy which helped her platelets go up drastically the next day.  She no longer had eye pain and her energy improved a whole ton.  It was amazing how much and fast the remedy helped. 

So, the main lessons I got out of this experience:

I have a community in Quepos that looks out for one another and cares a whole lot.
Systems can be super hard to navigate and sometimes you have to be assertive to get what you need.
I know a lot of people in Quepos - every time I went to the hospital I saw at least 4 people I know.  (I guess that means that one of my main goals - becoming a part of the community - has been realized).  Sure is a funny way to measure that goal.  

The good news is that Cara is doing well and fought off The Dengue.  And this is the story that showed me that "el pueblo es una familia." 

There's Always a Bus - The Adventures of Wall and Face

I recently returned from a two week long trip through both coasts of Panama and Costa Rica.  One of the many insights that I had while on this trip is that there is always a bus (or a boat or a person's own car).  Even if the bus is late or broken down or you have to wait until the next day to take it... there will always be a way to get where you are going. 

And yes, I do think that is a metaphor for life.

I guess it would be best to start at the beginning.  The following story was written by my friend, Cara, who I was traveling with for the two weeks.  I'll let her begin telling the story of our adventure and then I'll take it from there.  We called our journey the "Adventures of Wall and Face" because her name (Cara) is "face in Spanish" and the way people say my name sounds like the word for "wall."  Hahah.... So, there you go.  I hope you enjoy The Adventures of Wall and Face.

Panamanian Mania

The Panamanian adventures of Wall and Face began with some crazy excitement. Firstly, we ran into a girl named Christina at the bus stop who has lived in Costa Rica for two years. She turned out to be a godsend for reasons that will become apparent. Then we got on the bus and traveled the three hours to the border with little incident. Once we arrived, however, things got strange.

When crossing the border by bus everyone has to get off and show their passports to customs officials on both sides. As we got off the bus some guy came up to us jabbering in Spanish so fast I couldn't understand him.  Thankfully Christina could and she said he wanted us to go and pay the exit tax at some office. We walked over that direction but there was no office to be found, just a little bus and a semi truck. The man showed up again and said we needed to go in the bus to pay. Inside there was a woman with a cash machine all set up like a regular little office. That makes perfect sense, right? :P

Once we made it through Costa Rican customs we had to walk across to Panama and go through their customs. However there were no signs or indications anywhere of where we had to go. Christina came in handy once more. :)

When you enter Panama they require that you have a ticket as proof of exit from their country within the alloted tourist time.  We all had airline tickets leaving Costa Rica that we showed but the agent would not accept them and told us to go buy bus tickets we weren't going to use for $45 each. :/  Now all of this sounds clear cut the way I'm explaining it but in reality this whole exchange was a lot of jabbering in rapid Spanish and being pulled this way and that and shoved into different lines. As we were trying to figure out where to buy this annoying additional ticket our bus driver asked if we had gotten our visas stamped or what we were doing and Moriah explained to him what happened. He told us to go buy bus tickets, but Moriah insisted to him that we had plane tickets (which should have been good enough) and that we weren't even going to be returning on this side of the country.... We wouldn't be able to use these tickets.  He finally listened to her and walked right up to the immigration window.  He mumbled something to the man, who seemed peeved that we were going  to get through the process without spending unnecessary money . He turned back to us and told us to give the agent our passports which he stamped without further comment.

Thank you, bus driver :]

We got back on the bus and made it to David without further trouble.  We planned to stay the night in an out-of-the-way place called Boca Chica.  It turned out to be way more out-of-the-way than we originally thought.  As we were pushing our way through the crowds at the David bus station we ran across the bus to Horconcitos as it was leaving. A gentlemen who we later learned was the driver's helper warmly welcomed us onto the bus, which was really little more than a big passenger van and was packed with way more people than should fit in a vehicle that size.  I squeezed myself into the aisle in which I had to stand sideways in order to fit and the grandmotherly lady in front of me wearing a Jesus Te Amo (Jesus Loves You) bracelet offered to set my bag on her lap since it wouldn't fit on the floor.  We then discovered that this was the last bus to Horconcitos and we had barely made it. We were the only two white people on the bus and we soon realized this bus worked differently than most that we had previously seen.  Whenever someone wanted to get off the bus they would call out to the helper, he would then direct the driver where to stop.  For example, at the big tree--no not that one, the next big tree, or the blue mailbox--wait, no, a hundred meters farther, please. He would then direct everyone out of the way for whoever was trying to squeeze off, help them down and take their money,  all the while laughing, chatting and joking with us and everyone else on the bus. Below is a pic of the bus after about 25 people got off.  The gentleman standing next to Moriah is the helper.

At Horconcitos we were supposed to take another little bus to Boca Chica but as we approached the last bus was heading back, which the driver's helper frantically explained to us as he yelled out the window for the little bus to stop (which it did not).  By now it would soon be dark and we were in the middle of some tiny little Panamanian neighborhood where there definitely was no place to stay the night.  So... our friend, the bus driver helper, arranged for us to ride with the bus driver in his personal car to Boca Chica for a few dollars more.  They told us we needed to wait for him to finish his route, put the bus away and return for us on foot.  We got off the bus and found the bus driver's wife waiting for us. She took us to her house and we hung out with her while we waited for the driver to return.  

Then we all piled into his truck (the family dog included) and continued onto Boca Chica. 

Boca Chica is a little tiny fishing village and we needed to hop in a little boat to cross to Boca Brava, the island where there is a hostel.  It was dark when we arrived, though, and no one was there at the boats.  The driver talked to somebody and waited at the dock with us until somebody came.  He said he didn't want to leave us there by ourselves and wanted to make sure we would be okay.  :)

Finally someone showed up (bailing water from his boat) and we bade the driver, his wife, and their dog goodbye and set off for Boca Brava.  When we arrived a smiling young Panamanian named Julio informed us that yes there was room in the hostel but the restaurant had just closed.  Now we hadn't eaten all day and were starving so this was disappointing news to be sure, but he said he could fix us some fish and we gratefully accepted. 

Looking back on the day I have to say how taken care of I felt.  Though things were hectic and crazy things happened I felt like God was with us every step of the way.  I wasn't scared or even stressed out.  We almost missed so many connections but didn't and we ended up where we were trying to be and we met so many super helpful and friendly people along the way. One beautiful thing about learning to speak Spanish is that pretty much everything we did that day we couldn't have if we didn't speak the language.  We weren't restricted to fancy tours and paying English speaking guides to help us.  We could go out and talk to the people of Panama and get a whole different perspective on their culture. That packed bus ride in particular, they seemed to really want to make sure that we got where we were going okay and nothing bad happened to us.  The bus driver helper even gave Moriah a religious book to read, which he signed - laughing that he would be famous.  I feel like I can't really express in words what I felt and learned but I can say that every hour that I have put into struggling to learn a different language has been so worth it! 

- Written by my friend, Cara :]