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 :]