The One with a Crazy Border-to-Border Adventure

Scabby (front) and Peepa
(adorable brindle-colored Shepard mix)
escorting us to the dock

"Run!" I shouted, the whir of a boat engine sounding in the distance. It was 11:57, our boat off the Island was scheduled to leave at 12:00, and the dock was still not in sight! Alongside the two gringo girls, laden with clunky backpacks and laughing at how ridiculous we both looked, trotted Peepa and Scabby, the hostel dogs. We ran through a thicket and onto the dock seeing to our dismay that the boat taxi had already launched. A dock hand saw us running, quickly turned around and started shouting at the boat driver who, thankfully, heard him and turned the boat around to grab us stragglers. Peepa tried to get in with us, and whined and barked in alarm when I kept pushing her away from the boat. The two of us had formed a bond while on the Island and neither of us wanted to part.

"She probably does this with everyone." Kalyn suggested, hoping to ease the tug on my heartstrings as Peepa stood at the end of the dock, us pulling away to the sound of her whines. 

"Ya, but she's so freaking cute! I wonder if she could be my carry-on when I go home..." I joked, finally allowing myself to look away as we picked up speed and headed back to the mainland. 

Leaving our friends at Palmar was difficult, having formed instant friendships and a deep appreciation for the eco-friendly sustainable hostel - a claim many lodgings make but few actually follow through on. Once back from the Island Kalyn and I were joined by Tony, a Bradley Cooper look-alike, rugby dropout, and chain-smoking accountant who we had met at Palmar. The three of us traveled into the mountains to stay at Lost & Found: a random "eco" hostel in the middle of the jungle -twenty minute killer walk to get to the place included. Being a highly recommended hostel from Tony and in the Lonely Planet Guidebook, I should've braced myself for what was in store: an over-priced, flash-packer (backpackers who travel with obscene amounts of money, designer clothes, and an itinerary that usually included visiting every bar in the country) filled hostel of epically disappointing quality.

Climbing Tree Beard:
 a massive jungle tree found on our hike

Making food, eating meals, hanging out, or enjoying the view were all either out of the question or hastily done as we were surrounded by a constant haze of second-hand smoke, obliviously provided by the dozen or so hostel guests, ALL of whom smoked. As our agitation grew over not even being able to make eggs without some moronic chain-smoker sauntering over (a cloud in his wake, and chatting with us as if filling the kitchen with cigarette smoke was perfectly normal and welcomed), we agreed to take a short hike in the jungle before getting the hell out of the place while our lungs were still functioning. 

Needing to head back to Nicaragua for my flight, we made a gameplan: get across the Panama-Costa Rica border, and try to get to San Jose to sleep in the airport for free before heading to the Costa Rica-Nicaragua border in the morning. 

We were picked up almost immediately by a postal delivery worker who grew increasingly agitated as Kalyn stumbled over a conversation, trying to keep up with his rapid-fire, rrrrr-rolling, crazy Panamanian accent. He dropped us off in David (pronounced Dave-eed) before jetting back to work. We ate lunch and then spent 25 minutes failing to get a ride as nearly every passing driver waved their head "no" or pointed ahead in response to our smiles. Frustrated and curious, we walked around the bend in the road to discover we were less than 100 meters from a police station...no wonder no one was willing to pick us up! Walking another half mile down the road, we quickly hailed a ride from a wonderful middle-aged woman who had spent the 70's in San Francisco sharing "free love and the peace sisterhood". 

Hitching is tiring work!

She drove past her own house to drop us off at a more convenient location to get a ride to the border. We were then picked up and driven for about a half hour by a truck full of rowdy and hilarious 30-somethings, one of who jokingly offered to buy me a giant diamond ring in exchange for marriage and a green card into the United States. Riding with a lovely family (including Grandma), we finally arrived at the border! We spent a very comical hour getting wrong directions to and from immigration offices for our passport stamps, but were finally able to cross into Costa Rica! 

Raffa and Kalyn in conversation

We began walking North and within a mile, a knight in a shining semi-truck pulled over; his name was Raffa and he is possibly the kindest, loveliest gentlemen in all of Central America! Raffa drove us for seven hours, insisting on buying us drinks, snacks, dinner, and candy. He stopped at several breathtaking vistas, and cheerfully informed Kalyn and I (after we had tinkled on the side of the road) that he has a pee-bucket to avoid wading into the long Costa Rican grass to do his business: less likely to get attacked by snakes or bitten by poisonous spiders that way. Good to know we had escaped death, i will forever think twice before poppin'-a-squat in the jungle! Raffa took us to dinner at an all-night truck diner where owner Jose (a friend of Raffa's) informed us we were well past San Jose and that it wouldn't be safe to try and find a place to camp at Raffa's final destination, especially in the middle of the night. Luckily, Jose was just as incredibly helpful as Raffa and offered for us to shower and sleep in the back of his restaurant. He even promised to find us a ride to Nicaragua! 

Camping, sketchy restaurant style!

A little past 4am we were gently roused by Jose who informed us a trucker was leaving for Mexico and that he could give us a ride North.

"Awesome." I said.

"He leaves in 5 minutes." Jose responded. We practically fell out of the tent, threw on our shoes, and somehow managed to be packed up and walking to the parking-lot within the time frame. Half-awake we were introduced to Miguel who, despite the hour, happily asked Kalyn question after question. We drove for several hours and mid-morning Miguel pulled off the road and into a tiny village.

"Do they have tiny villages in the truck driver/hitchhiker horror movies?" I asked Kalyn. Before she could respond Miguel grabbed a duffle bag from the back and said in English, laundry. 

We hopped out, and after Miguel ducked into a house, we entertained ourselves for several minutes on a playground. Several minutes later we wandered around and abandoned school, and in another couple minutes we began to wonder where Miguel was... 

Nearly and hour passed before Miguel, toting a voluptuous woman and fresh clothes, called us over to the truck. Unlocking the door, Miguel was grinning like a 17-year-old on prom night. We were introduced to Miguel's novia (girlfriend) Marina before all of us climbed into the truck. 

"Guess we know what laundry really means now..." I winked at Kalyn, nodding to the couple sitting up front. 

"An HOUR!" Kalyn quietly spoke, outraged that Miguel had locked us out of the truck without so much as a warning as to how long his laundry was going to take! We rode another half hour before Miguel explained his truck needed to get checked for drugs at the border, which would take a while, and did we want to be picked up on the other side? 

Kindly declining, we grabbed our gear, profusely thanked Miguel, said goodbye to Marina and walked ourselves to the border crossing. 

16 hours later: The final leg to the border!

Kalyn was nervous going into customs...on several previous visits she had been detained for up to three hours, for no other reason than being white and American. We handed over our passports to the Costa Rican Offical who took one look at our entry stamps and called over his superior. I looked at Kalyn, who's face became very serious, and shrugged my shoulders. Rapid spanish was spoken between the two as they both looked over our passports. 

"What's going on?"

"This isn't happening." Kalyn whispered.

I caught the word rapido  and realized what the fuss was about; we had only crossed into Costa Rica 17 hours prior....they didn't believe us that we could get to the Northern border so fast! With a little joking, some unabashed flirting, and twenty-four dollars, we were able to convince them to let us leave Costa Rica.

 Crossing into Nicaragua was a breeze. As we sat on a bus bound for our final vacation destination, Kalyn and I agreed that the past 24 hours had been the craziest and best of the trip so far! 

-Ashley