Panama and I were not off to a good start. It was 9 o'clock at night at a bus stop in the northern city of David, and it seemed as if our journey was finally at a standstill. There were no more buses to take us an hour further to our destination of San Felix. After a long day of traveling, Christina and I were stuck, skulking out of sight behind a running bus headed to Panama City.
The travel day had started off rough and had thrown almost every possible obstacle our way. We had arrived at the Expreso Panama bus station an hour early to buy our tickets, only to be waved off impatiently.
"No. No hay espacio," we were told dismissively.
"Are you sure?" I asked in Spanish. "Is there another bus today?"
No, there was no other bus today. And no room on the bus tomorrow or on the other well-know bus company.
Only two days before, 12 of our squad mates had walked in to the same office, bought tickets for that day, and enjoyed an almost empty bus ride across the border with no problems. Christina had been sick, so we stayed back in San Jose, Costa Rica until she was healthy enough to travel. Now, baffled, we walked outside to figure out another way to get Christina reunited with her team in Panama.
"Excuse me," I approached a taxi driver outside the station. "My friend and I are trying to get to Panama, but all the buses are full. Is there another way to go today?"
"I have a blue car," was his response with a sweeping wave to the vehicle in question.
"Well, um, yes. I see that," I nodded politely. "But is there another bus company we can use to go to Panama?"
We were reassured that yes, yes there was another company and he could take us there. So we climbed into the blue car with our packs and set off, our driver chatting away.
“I am a pirate,” he declared, with a chuckle. Christina and I laughed nervously, wondering what exactly we had gotten ourselves into.
When we pulled up at the new station, our pirate taxi driver helped us get our packs on and walked us inside. Delightedly, we were told that a bus left in half an hour. We bought tickets and boarded a near-empty bus. We were a bit confused at this. How could it be that the other two companies were full with no room and there were 1, 2 … 5 people on this bus? I sent up a prayer that we wouldn’t die or become stranded as the bus pulled out of the station.
Night had fallen by the time we reached the border several hours later. As we walked up to the counter to exit Costa Rica, Christina confidently declared, "I think this is going to be a really easy crossing!"
Our passports were stamped without any problems and we were directed to walk to Panama.
"Which way is Panama?" I whispered to Christina. We had found ourselves in a dark, dirty little town in the no-man's land between the countries. We walked straight down the road, our choice confirmed by a "Bienvenidos a Panama" sign painted on the wall of a building.
We walked confidently up to the counter to enter Panama, handed over our passports, and waited for the quick stamps and brief glances before we could continue back to the bus.
"Where are your return tickets out of Panama?" the guard asked.
"We'll buy them once we're there," was my answer. Apparently, it was the wrong one as my passport was immediately shoved back to me and I was told under no uncertain terms could I enter Panama until I had a ticket back out.
"Where can I buy one?" I asked. The guard shrugged, not caring, and motioned for the person behind me to step forward.
For the next 20 minutes, I was dragged around by offers of "help" from the locals. I was told about a sketchy motel we could stay in if we wanted (we didn't), or that we could wait until morning. Finally, in exasperation, I marched up to an Expreso Panama driver and asked him if we could buy a ticket back to Costa Rica from him. Yes, of course we could. Better yet, it was an open ticket, so we could use it any time we wanted. Perfect.
Proudly, we marched back up to the counter and showed the border guard our open ticket out of Panama. Now we could get our stamp and be on our way!
No. Where was the $500 we each needed to have on us in order to enter Panama?
Thankfully, Adventures in Missions has equipped us for that through a little stash of emergency cash. I surreptitiously pulled it out of the hiding place where I had it tucked away and counted it out quickly for their benefit.
"And what about her $500?" he questioned, nodding at Christina.
"That's for both of us. And, uh, she has a credit card." I prayed this would be sufficient. Please let us get across the border, please.
Panama, it seemed, wanted to keep us out.
After a barrage of questions, the guard finally stamped our passports and waved us on. Breathing a deep sigh of relief we returned to the bus, only be to be told we needed to carry our packs into a concrete room to be searched. We waited with the rest of the bus for several minutes, only to be waved on with only a cursory glance at our bags.
We had loaded up again and went to take our seats when Christina let out a gasp and grabbed a baggie full of white powder off her seat.
"Look!" She shrieked, holding it up for me to examine. "Cake batter! I'm going to kill Amanda!" (Disclaimer: Amanda had gotten a good number on the squad addicted to buying cake mixes and adding water to them to eat as a snack. Christina had kept a small stash for the future, which had been found in her day pack when the bus was searched. We can only imagine what the guards must have thought when they found it. No wonder they didn't want to let us in.)
Finally, we were across the border. It was a short 45 minute drive to David, where we would grab another bus to San Felix to meet up with the contact and the team that was already there.
Or so we thought. When we arrived, it was dark, late, and we were being told that there were no more buses that night. I wasn't even surprised anymore since nothing about this day had been easy.
But somehow, there is always that one helpful person who is able to help you find a way, even if they get a little financial benefit off of the illegal thing they're about to help you do. We were approached by an English-speaking "guide" who could help us get to San Felix for $6 each.
"But I thought there are no more buses," I pointed out. He motioned us over to the big, comfortable air-conditioned bus headed for the capital. After a rapid, quick-fire exchange with the driver, we were told that there were no seats but we could be in the aisle and they would drop us off in San Felix on the way to Panama City. Seeing as we didn't really have a choice, we agreed.
We loaded our packs off underneath the bus and went to wait for all the ticket holding passengers to board. We quickly realized that what we were doing was very much against the rules and when the supervisor came over, we were told to go wait behind the bus and out of sight.
That's how we find ourselves breathing in diesel fumes, peering around the corner of the bus waiting for the time when we can jump on with the ticket holders and be on our way at last.
Finally, we are motioned to get on the bus. We jump on and are pointed to a little cupboard behind the driver's seat where we cram in with 4 other stowaways. Laughing at the absurdity of what we have to do to get to the ministry site, we sit with our knees up by our chins and settle in.
An hour later, the bus pulls over seemingly in the middle of nowhere. We crawl out of our hiding place and fall out of the bus and into a ditch. Making our way towards the back of the bus, we point out which packs belong to us, which are then unceremoniously thrown out and into the bushes before the bus roars off, leaving us where we are standing.
Dark road? Check. No signs of visible life? Check. Almost midnight with no clue if we're in the right place? Check.
And it's at that moment we hear a friendly yell in the distance and see Ray's familiar form walking towards us on the dark road. The contact, Danny, pulls up in his truck, we load up for the last time, and we arrive at last.
Life on the World Race is far from predictable. There are days when nothing seems to go the way you want it to and circumstances are beyond your control. Yet these are days that we remember most, when we have to overcome challenges and find joy in the middle of the adventure. I believe that life is very much the same way. Our character is formed, not through the easy, comfortable journey, but when we have to triumph over hardship and adversity.
Embrace the unpredictable and wild ride. It makes for the best stories.
