Our New Path: Crossing into Panama

As part of the 3 week language school, we travelled by local public bus to the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, along that coast to the border town of Sixaola, then to the frontier with Panama. We had one bus from Turrialba to Siquirres in CR, then another bus to Limon and a third to Sixaola. We were a party of four - Janet, me, our teacher (Eli) and another student Vienna. At the border, the bus pulled into a gravel yard and we all trooped off, grabbed our baggage from under the bus, and walked up over an old weathered approach ramp to an abandoned railroad bridge which links the two countries.

On the CR side there was a small building with a glass window booth. All passengers with all their gear lined up single file to have our passports stamped to exit Costa Rica. Then we humped our bags and packs over a steel trestle bridge about 300 m long. Looking through gaps between the old rail ties we stared down 100 feet to a muddy crocodile-infested river. Thick rough-sawn planks of tropical hardwood were laid down on either side of the unused steel rails to serve as walkways. The boards were not all nailed down; some jumped and shifted as you walked on them adding to the excitement of the crossing. Midway across the bridge was a bored-looking Panamanian soldier in full camoflage fatigues and assault rifle. This marks the mid-point of the river and our first welcome to Panama. The whole trek reminded me of a tense prisoner exchange. At any moment, we expected barked orders over a loudspeaker to freeze, and the rattle of automatic weapons from nervous senties.

We made it to the other side with no shots fired, to a cluster of single storey unmarked buildings with peeling paint and rusty corrugated metal roofs - immigration offices to enter Panama. We lined up behind a cluster of British backpackers with mountainous expedition packs crammed to bursting. Soon we were in front of another glass window and low, half-moon opening (just like the old movie theater ticket booths). Slide through your passport, and bend down to mutter through into the dimly interior. Only to be told that we needed a $5 Tourist Card to enter Panama; just go down to the NEXT window, get it and return (to the line). We grab your packs, shuffle 50 feet along to another theatre ticket window. Slide passport through, bend and mutter. With a pad of cards and carbon paper, the woman leisurely writes out the card by hand, then back come the papers through the half moon. Shuffle back to the first window, slide passports AND tourist card through slot, bend, mutter, wait. Then we are done.

Meanwhile, taxi drivers (we think) are hovering in the hubbub to entice us to use them. Eli had engaged one of them, and when we turned around, our packs were gone! But only whisked away to the pickup truck that commonly serve as taxis. In we all crowded and off we went for an hour long taxi ride to the boat dock to take us and our pile of baggage for the 45 min to Bocas del Toro.
We were in Panama for sure.