i hear the rice and beans are good.

After starting our day at 6.30am, driving a van that wouldn’t go out of second gear, then catching a bus for 5 hours, the fiasco at the border was enough to test anyone’s desire for sunshine.
We had idiotic boys following us around trying to speak on behalf of us and talking to us in such a way that was making any attempts to get over the border more difficult than they had to be. We tried very politely to get him to go away, explaining that we had no intention of paying him to make our lives easier and with him finally getting the message I had to go into damage control in what I would like to call Spanglish. The problem was that we were returning to Costa Rica via a ferry and therefore didn’t have a return bus ticket. Think of 10 ways you can say “no please sir, we return via ferry on Monday” and I tried them all. finally share pig headed persistence, smiling though our teeth with the air of “we are poor travelers, and we cant afford to buy bus tickets that we will never use, please just let us though” and finally he did.

We got back on the bus only for Whitney to exclaim with full enthusiasm that she hears that the rice and beans in panama are supposed to be better than those in Costa Rica. I think the look I gave her spoke volumes as we both cracked up with laughter and sat back in the bus dreaming of a bed and a stiff drink.

Unfortunately for us though the excitement for the day had only just begun. Having got to David, we preceded to be instantly running to the bus for the town that has the ferry to Bocos. The whole 3 hour mini van trip I was hanging on for dear life, and chanting mantras with my eyes closed as we passed trucks on blind corners in the rain at aprox 100km/hr. by the grace of god, and the roots that I imagined were coming out of the van preventing us from tipping over, we arrived in one piece only to be greeted by hasty horney young men ushering us into a taxi. I demanded 2 mins to myself waiting for my legs to catch up with the rest of me. We popped into the supermarket and brought 2 cans of Heinekins for $1.60 (score) for when we got to the hotel. We got into the taxi and asked to be driven to a nice hotel. Being only two of them in the town the nice aspect of the one we stayed at was the fact it was noticeably infected with cockroaches. We pulled up in a street that looked like it was in lockdown ready for war, and was ushered into a side door with two armed military men standing outside. There were boards on the windows and police driving past every 30 seconds which Whitney thought was a good sign. We decided to go to bed with a door that was bashed in at the level of foot and head. And I lay awake all night listening to the brawls and fights happening around us.
As I lay there once again chanting my little head off I imagined images of sand, sun, surf and margaritas. The next morning not even wanting to take a shower in the bathroom we got up and left in a taxi for the ferry very determined never to visit that place again.

The town of Bocas itself was quite nice. Very American, very touristy, but pleasant considering the night before. We stayed at a resort that was to officially open up in a week so instead of paying $85 for the room we only payed $20. we extended the offer of beautiful cheap accom to 4 swiss boys that we met on the ferry. All very nice fellows, looking for the perfect wave, a scientist, a doctor, a lawyer and a journalist, who filled their time with playing the wonderfully childish game of Asshole. Never being one to humor myself with such idiotic behaviour I quickly found that if you didn’t speak swiss, or play asshole, you were on the outside. Whitney didn’t speak swiss but her asshole technique had them all jumping over each other to play with her. after 3 days of checking out the sights, the beautiful beaches, the quante houses on the water, and the evenings filled with other people drinking and playing the famous game. We decided to leave while I still had my sanity and took off for the comfort of Peuto Veijo. I had never been so happy to leave cute boys, see I am changing!

The best part about Bocas was the water taxi ride as you leave. It goes across the ocean and then heads inland down a canal that the Chiquita banana people made to have the ships transport bananas in bad weather. locals that lived on the banks were truly amazing probally the furthest I have been from bloor st in my life.
The taxi to the border let us stop at the banana factor – see photo. The reluctantly let us back into Costa Rica as we once again didn’t have documentation to say when we were leaving, but I have never been so happy to walk across ricky bridge that was only wide enough for a truck so as they pass you, you had to hang out over the side of the bridge with all your stuff. But we were back in costa rica and very pleased for it.

The last 3 days we spent in Peuto Veijo, the weather was good, the food was great, the locals were interesting especially the ones that lived under “crack bridge” (no its not going to fall down) and met some amazing people to hang out with. I dressed as a earth pixie for Halloween (how surprising) and had a great time blessing the Rastafarians that were high on crack sitting on the side of the road.

So amazing that with the arrival of my friend Izzy from Toronto, we are planning to return to PV tomorrow for yet some more sun, surf and scooter fun!

this is my halloween costume! i ran around as a pixie blessing everyone! even the crack heads.

The trip as a hole was eye opening, amazing, and very rewarding. I learnt a lot about myself, a lot about Whitney, and appreciated every moment (even though not every moment was enjoyed)

Love and pixie dust.